


Kintsugi: The art of precious scars

by critterdee_67



Series: KINTSUGI: Dean's Life [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allusion to Rape, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Consensual Somnophilia, Depressed Dean Winchester, Depression, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Rollercoster, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Homosexuality, Human Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Masturbation, Medical Patient Dean, Memories of rape, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Multi, Past Drug Use, Racism, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-03-25 14:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 185,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13837158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/critterdee_67/pseuds/critterdee_67
Summary: There was a post on the Destiel Port FB group about voices or noise in your own head that made it hard to complete a thought or sentence. This made me think of my own issues with noise that buzzes in my head that causes my depression/anxiety to cave in on me and leads me into a dark place or toward a panic attack or other pattern of self-deprecation or harm.  This train of thought brought to mind Dean Winchester (my spirit animal ♡)☆ Dean has untapped artistic abilities that are uncovered while he is in an inpatient care unit for depression/anxiety/self-harm. Castiel is an artist who volunteers at the care unit.





	1. Dean

**Author's Note:**

> I will add more tags as they become necessary. More characters may also be developed.  
> My plan is to update a new chapter on a weekly schedule. With the caveat that life sometimes gets in the way and I am a working adult with obligations pulling from all directions.  
>   
> NOTE: The symbol **# # #** shows the beginning and ending of a memory/flashback.  
>  _'This shows thought'_  
>  Dean's current age is 24.  
> 
> 
> ❤ Lots of love goes out to my dear betas! ❤  
> 
> 
>   
>  **Sybildiscontent  
> **
> 
>   
>  **TheRealJ2MLovesDestiel  
> **
> 
>   
>  **Jenni Johns**
> 
>   
>  **[TapBluesNLindyhopDancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TapBluesNLindyhopDancer/pseuds/TapBluesNLindyhopDancer)**   
> 

 

Dean wakes up in the infirmary. Again.

  
Looking around the room bleary-eyed, it takes him a moment to get his bearings. Other than a guy snoring in a bed across the room, he sees that he is alone. He can also see that there’s an orderly standing in the hallway. Gingerly, Dean moves his blanket and checks out the damage. The cuts on his leg aren’t too bad, he’s had a lot worse. His ribs, however, really hurt and his eye feels puffy. He grimaces as he touches it gently, yeah that’s gonna be a nice look...

  
‘Damn orderly,’ he thinks to himself as he shifts to carefully pull himself upright. ‘Didn’t need to use so much force, I was gonna give him the stupid blade… just as soon as I was finished.’ Dean had stolen a broken razor blade and was in the process of cutting new lines on his upper thigh; the orderly was determined to take the broken piece from him. When Dean didn’t immediately hand it over, the orderly grabbed his arm and out of nowhere two more orderlies tackled him to the ground. ‘That shit hurt more than any cut I ever made,’ he thinks bitterly. The people who say they want to help always end up hurting him the most. He hisses as he presses on his left side over the bruising on his ribs. Fighting the dizziness and a pounding head, he closes his eyes, feeling the slow slide into darkness come over him. With the darkness, however, comes the monsters.

  
Dean has been in and out of places like this most of his life. He doesn’t really remember life outside the system anymore. He was only four years old when his house burned down and his childhood all but ended.  
He tries unsuccessfully to push the images away.

 

 

# # #

“Dean! Run! Get out the front door, NOW!” Daddy was yelling and Dean was scared because Daddy had never yelled at him like that before. The smoke was filling the upstairs rooms. Mommy pushed him toward the stairs and made sure he got to the front door, but then she went back upstairs to get baby Sammy. Daddy was yelling from upstairs for Dean to get outside to the yard.

  
Dean was crying as he ran out into the front yard, the neighbors had come out and the nice lady from next door grabbed him as soon as he was off the porch. Looking back toward the house, Dean could see the flames through the upstairs windows. There was a loud boom and the windows of the house all shattered as the flames shot out. Dean cried watching the front door, frantically struggling against the arms that held him tight. He watched, unblinking, waiting for his Mommy and Daddy to come out. They should be coming out with little Sammy any second now. Any second now…

  
Dean cried as more neighbors appeared from their houses one by one to watch his house burn. He cried as he fell asleep in the arms of a fireman. Dean cried when the fireman gently told him that the rest of his family had never made it out of the house.

  
Standing next to the grumpy, court-ordered child service agent, Dean didn’t cry. He felt like he was moving in wet cement, he had never slept away from home before. He didn’t like this room, it smelled like dirty socks and the weird old man who was always at the bus stop. All the adults around him were discussing things like foster care and possibilities of adoption and so many other words Dean didn’t understand. Dean didn’t like that his pajamas still smelled like smoke. He wanted his mommy.

 

 

# # #

The nurse touches Dean’s arm startling him out of his thoughts. “Good morning Dean.” She is smiling down at him sweetly but her eyes are sad. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  
Dean stares at her. His mouth feels like it is full of cotton and he doesn’t feel like he could talk even if he wanted to.

  
“Well, these older marks look like they are healing just fine,” she says soothingly as she surveys the small marks on his forearms. “I’m going to need to move this blanket to check your leg now.” Dean doesn’t fight her, but he doesn’t help her, either, “These are mostly okay… Although that one looks like it hurts. That razorblade went really deep, didn’t it?”

  
He rolls his eyes at her, ‘Well, duh’. He was just about to cut a line when the orderlies had tackled him, forcing the blade so deep into his thigh they had to have a doctor remove it. The overreaction resulted in a significantly larger wound.

  
“Dean…,” the nurse gently speaks, “...if you’d just stop stealing razors and utensils they’d probably lighten up and even let you eat lunch with some of your friends now and then instead of constantly being attended by an orderly…”

  
Dean stares at the woman like she is the crazy one, ‘Friends? What fucking friends?’ He doesn’t socialize with any of the other patients, play stupid board games or even watch ridiculous daytime TV with them. He favors sitting by the window in the day room, staring out towards the huge garden in front of the Center with the trees that line the long, curved driveway leading to a freedom that Dean somehow never seems to find in life.

  
The nurse is still talking. Incessantly talking. So much noise that his ears feel hot with a buzzing is gradually growing louder. Too loud for Dean to concentrate on the thought and tranquility of his relatively ‘happy’ place. ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP!’ he wants to scream at the nurse but the words are stuck in his brain. He shakes his head trying to rattle the words out… it never works… some days are just like that. Some days his voice just doesn’t work. Doesn’t WANT to work. It seems to be more days than not lately, ever since he was brought to the Center a few months ago.

  
The nurse, assuming that Dean is gesturing to her encouragingly, begins to excitedly engage him in further conversation. ‘... _Great_ ,’ he thinks.  
FINALLY, the nurse finishes her examination, which included taking samples for a full blood and urine test. ‘ _I’m not a fuckin’ addict!_ ’ Dean thinks ‘ _I only get to take the shit you quacks give me, not that it helps at fuckin all_.’

  
Even as she tidies up, preparing to leave, she is talking continuously. Dean rolls away from the irritating woman and pretends to go back to sleep. He is possibly the furthest from tired he’s ever been but it is easier to ignore the constant noise this way. Dean closes his eyes tightly and allows himself to imagine being... well... not being here. Not him. Not broken. And not alone.

 

 

 

# # #

He was hiding under the big wooden desk, curled as small as a seven-year-old could possibly get (and he could make himself very small). The latest in a long line of state-issued child service agents was scolding him for biting another child.

  
“I only bit him ‘cuz he took my matchbox car and put me in a headlock!” A frustrated young Dean yelled at the adult.

  
“Young man, you know that biting is against the rules!” Adults only ever cared about the stupid rules.

  
“Takin’ my toy and puttin’ me in a headlock ain’t against none of your rules?!” He yelled again from his hiding place.

  
The woman tsked at him and sighed heavily. “Those toys are not yours. All the toys belong to the daycare and all the children here must share the toys. You need to remember the rules.”

Dean fought back the tears burning his eyes. He had nothing. Even the clothes on his back were donated, used and worn by the time he got them. Suddenly, a large hand grabbed his ankle. The assistant jerked Dean by the leg and dragged him out from under the desk. “OOWWW!!” Dean screamed, kicking at the arm attached to the large hand.

  
“Shut it you little shit!” The fat, ogre-like man huffed at Dean “That’s what you get for making me get you out from under there.”

  
Dean wanted to bite him too, but aside from already being in trouble for biting, the way the man was twisting Dean’s arm kept him turned away from him, made it hard for Dean to land a good bite. “Fatass,” Dean mumbled.

 

 

# # #

Dean wakes with a jerk and sits straight up in bed, a pain shooting through his chest. ‘ _Ow right, bruised ribs_ ,’ he remembers.

  
He looks up in time to see the nurse and two orderlies arriving at his bedside. “Time for you to head on back to the day room. The doctor wants you to be careful of your ribs for the next few days,” the nurse informs him, as if he had any choice in the matter.

* * *

  
Sitting in the day room watching the Gardener tidy the edges of the driveway, Dean tries to picture himself walking, NO, driving away from this place. He imagines himself speeding down that long, curved driveway to... to somewhere else. Anywhere else. Where though? Canada? Naw too cold. Mexico? Maybe, but they talk Mexican down there and he only remembers a few words from when he was a kid. That wouldn’t be too helpful…. Wait, is it called even called Mexican? Why is he always so confused these days? The meds. It has to be the meds they give him here. Those damn pills leave him feeling sleepy, confused and forgetful.

  
Glancing over at the nearby bookshelf for inspiration, Dean let his thoughts tumble as his eyes slide absently over the titles. ‘Well, we talk English like England, ‘cuz American ain’t a language, so it makes sense that Mexicans talk Mexican, right? Germans talk German and Russians talk Russian.’ Yeah, he remembers that from school. But he still doesn’t know how to talk Mexican, so maybe going to Mexico isn’t a good idea. ‘Maybe Montana or Utah, they have horses and cowboys there too, just like Texas.’

  
Lost in the thought of horses, Dean grabs a marker off the table and scans the room for a piece of paper. Shrugging to himself in resignation, he starts drawing a stick-figure horse on his forearm, grinning at his funny little horse. He is filled with a sudden flutter of happiness as he remembers The Ranch and his adventures with the horses.

  
Dean is jerked up from his chair and held against the wall before he even notices that the two orderlies have rushed across the room. The linebacker-like man holds Dean against the wall as the other orderly roughly pulls Dean’s arm towards himself at an awkward angle to check him over.

  
“What the hell, Man?” Scolds the shorter, thinner orderly. “Why the hell are you scribbling all over your damn arm with a marker? I thought you were cutting yourself again. What is this? You practicing for the next time or something?” He sneers derisively. “You freaks really piss me off. Can’t even kill yourself without fucking it up. You can’t do anything right.”

  
Linebacker snarls at Dean and pats the side of his face roughly, giving him one last shove into the wall before letting go and stalking away.

  
Dean slumps to the floor, ‘ _I - I wasn’t… I never…_ ” Dean can’t even finish his thought; the buzzing in his ears is too loud, his heart pounding, barely able to catch his breath. Shakily, he crawls under the table and wraps his arms around his legs, leaning his forehead against his knees. For a grown man of six feet tall he can still make himself quite small when he wants to. He doesn’t make a sound. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to disappear.

 

 

# # #

“Look at this loser!” Laughed the red-haired boy who had taken Dean’s backpack and was currently shaking it in his face. “Feels empty. Check if there’s anything good.” He said as he tossed the bag over Dean’s head to his pimple-faced friend.

  
Pimples dumped it out into the dirt. “What the hell dude. Nothing in here but a worn-out pencil and a stupid ratty notebook. What’s wrong with you kid?” Red and Pimples start shoving Dean back and forth between them, laughing and calling him names.

  
“Tomorrow, you better have something good for us. You hear me?” Red taunted, she shoved Dean hard. Pimples tripped him causing him to fall hard onto the sidewalk, scraping the palms of his hands.

  
Dean crawled off the sidewalk into the dirt to gather his things. Pimples kicked him in the ribs causing him to fall over onto his side, hard. “Ha ha! The little baby’s rollin’ around in the dirt! Crawl baby, crawl!” Pimples teased Dean while Red laughed and kicked a clump of grass towards Dean’s face.

  
‘ _Fuck you_ ’ Dean thought to himself, knowing better than to talk back to the bullies, ‘ _I mowed four lawns to earn the money to buy this backpack and stuff. Bet your precious mommy and daddy bought your stupid fancy stuff._ ’

  
Another new school, another new foster house; this was the third time he’d moved this year, always the new kid. Dean didn’t call them foster families anymore. Family was supposed to mean something... it meant belonging. He’d given up on belonging a long time ago, and the only Home he’d ever truly know burned to the ground.

  
Dean took a detour to the boys’ bathroom on his way to class. After making sure he was alone, he slipped into a stall and locked the door. Sniffing back the tears, he wiped the dirt off his backpack, unzipped a small pocket, and dug out a single razor blade from its hiding place in the lining. Pulling up his t-shirt, Dean surveyed his chest and rubbed his hand across the hash marks and other scars that cover his torso, pressing the tender area on his right side where he’d been kicked. Dean placed the razor blade against his lower left rib and slid it across slowly. Methodically. Hissing in a breath as the blood began to trickle down his side, Dean made another line just below the first. Then one more. Always three. Three felt right somehow.

  
He leaned back against the toilet, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing he felt the blood dripping slowly down his side. The fingers of his right hand were sticky as he gripped the blade tightly. He felt calm. His breathing started to regulate and there were no more tears threatening to fall. Just the feel of the blood cooling and drying on his side and fingers as he concentrated on the sting, letting it ground him. Dean's eyes snapped open when he heard some boys coming into the bathroom. He dabbed hurriedly at his side with some toilet paper and flushed it down the toilet. He knew that his t-shirt would stick to the still bleeding cuts. It’s why he always wore an undershirt. He can rinse it out when he gets to the house tonight. Straightening his clothes, he peeked through the opening to try to see which boys had come in, relieved when he realized wasn’t Red or Pimples. Dean stepped out from the stall and washed his hands, ignoring the other boys’ as they discussed an end of year party happening at the house of some baseball MPV or something. The water burned the scrapes on his palms as he washed away the blood and dirt.

  
Dean made it to class just before the bell. The teacher waited until everybody was seated to maximize his embarrassment by announcing him as the new student and introducing him to the class. Dean stared at his shoes, steadfastly ignoring the inquisitive looks of the other students. ‘ _Damn, my lace is about to break, maybe I can find some string_ …’

  
“Dean,” The teacher repeated, interrupting his thoughts. She looked at him like she might have been talking to him for a while.

  
‘ _Whoops_ ,’ Dean grimaced and looked at the teacher then out to the class.

  
“Dean, will you please take a seat now?” the teacher repeated.

  
Dean surveyed the room ‘ _Great. Red and Pimples would be in my class_ ,’ he thought angrily. He made his way over to the only empty seat in the classroom. To continue his run of bad luck, it’s right in front of Red. ‘ _Fifth grade is going to be so much fun at this school_ ,’ he thought, as he sighed out loud. ' _At least this is the last semester_.’ Sitting in his seat and sliding his backpack under his desk, he felt a pain shoot through his ribs where he had been kicked and felt his t-shirt pull the newly forming scabs on his side.

 

 

# # #

“Dean,” the stern voice of the scary head nurse brings him back to the here and now. “I’ve told you three times to get out from under that table. If you don’t move on your own I’ll have to ask the orderly to move you, again. It’s time for dinner and you know the rules, everyone must attend dinner in the dining hall.”

  
Dean slowly crawls out of his hiding place. He hates the dining hall. It’s too loud and smells weird. He knows the rules, though. If he doesn’t eat dinner, he gets force fed with a tube and that shit sucks. Dean shuffles along between two orderlies. He notices that the taller, thinner guy has red hair and acne scars. He decides to watch the lines on the tile floor as they make their way towards the dining hall.

 


	2. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel allows his mind to wander as he cleans his paint pallet, picturing the beautiful women and men who are all practically naked just outside his studio; wet, playful, and sexy as fuck. He rubs his hand along his growing erection. Maybe he should have kept his big mouth shut and fucked her anyway. He could have any of the groupies hanging out by the pool, they’re all willing enough. ‘It’s a little like having my own private stable’ he muses then laughs out loud. “Yea, I’m a damn Czar,” he mutters, smirking to himself walking over to lean against the door frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The symbol # # # shows the beginning and end of a memory/flashback.  
>  _'Italics show thought'_  
>  Castiel's current age is 28.

Music blasting, windows and doors open and the sun shining into the open studio create a perfect shadow line on the model's naked body. “Don’t move a muscle,” he says as he adds just the right amount of shading to bring his painting to life. “Awesome,” he grins at the model.  “Alright, babe. We’re all done!” He beams at the brown-eyed beauty. “Thanks for sitting for me, you were great. Just perfect for this piece,” he says, winking at the woman as he reaches for his beer bottle. “You can head out to the pool if you want, I think there are a few others out there.”

The model rises as gracefully as a cat from the chase lounge, slinking down from the platform. “Are you joining us, handsome?” She asks as she slides up next to him, “You’re always in here working while your friends are partying poolside.” She snakes her hand around his waist and slips her fingers into his back pocket.

“You head on out, babe. I need to clean this up,” he responds gesturing toward his paints.

“Castiel,” she purrs, drawing out his name and rubbing her naked body against him. “You never come out to play” she pouts up at him, batting her long lashes.

Castiel wraps his hand around her back and trails a gentle, caressing hand down her spine until it rests on her bare ass. He gazes deeply into her eyes, tilts his head, squinting and focusing intently. The eyes that stare back at him are as brown as the beer bottle in his hand. He parts his lips and gently inhales, inching ever so slowly closer. “Your eyes...” he whispers, “they’re so brown.”

She sighs impatiently, “Yeah… brown eyes. I thought you, of all people, would notice details like eye color.” She gives him a flirty smile and presses her body more fully against his. ‘ _God, this man is toned,_ ’ she thinks as his hand grips her ass holding her hips tight to him.

“No, I knew they were brown,” He answers quietly, barely more than a breath as he studies her eyes. “I just haven't looked at them this closely before, it’s like looking into deep mesmerizing brown pools, falling into them, drowning in a transparent lake, dark and beautiful.”

She quivers excitedly, her breath warm on his neck. She slips her other hand under his t-shirt and rubs his lower back, caressing his skin beneath her palm.

“You have such a magnificent body,” he growls as she leaned into him, purring. "So fuckable," he whispers, not meaning for the words to actually escape, as he breathes in the scent of her soft perfume. “If only…,” he exhales.“If only your eyes weren’t so …. empty.”

“Empty!?” She starts pulling back and looking up at him incredulously. “What the hell does that mean!?”

He squeezes her ass, then gives it a slap as he let her go, backing away from her. “Don’t worry, babe, it’s not of import. Most of the people I meet have an emptiness in their eyes.” he feels his own libido waning as he regards the shallow woman. ‘ _Sad really, such perfect bodies and there’s just nothing past the surface_ .’ Where had he gone wrong in his life? Always surrounding himself with unlovable, uncaring, selfish people. ‘ _Have I become what I hated as a youth? Rich, powerful, … empty..._ ’

She gasps, unsure of how to take the comment or the slap on her ass. “Freak!” She sneers as she turns and storms out the door.

“Head on out to play with the others if you still want to, it sounds like the pool party is still going on” he calls after her rolling his eyes. I’ll give you a call if I need you to sit for me again.” ‘ _I know I used to be a better person_.’ He thinks to himself dispassionately.

“Don’t bother.” She snarls back as she turns on her heel, gathering her forgotten clothes she stomps back out the open French doors.

Gathering his brushes and pallet to wash, Castiel stops at the doors looking out toward the pool, ‘ _Yep, there they all are_ ’ he thinks watching his manager, Gabriel, flirt with a woman who is wearing only bikini bottoms.

Dropping his brushes in the sink he grabs his address book, opening it to find the brown-eyed model’s name. ‘ _Meg? Lisa? Lori?_ ’ He was going to cross her out of his book if he could just remember her name. “I always lose them if I don’t sleep with them. Shallow fools.” He sighed.

He’d thought about fucking this girl. He loved the curves of her body and, God, she moved so gracefully. The way she’d felt in his hands pressed tightly against his body...

Closing his eyes he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. Adjusting himself in his jeans, ‘ _Guess I’m not as in control as I thought_ , he smirks and goes about the task of cleaning the paint from his brushes.

Castiel allows his mind to wander as he cleans his paint pallet, picturing the beautiful women and men who are all practically naked just outside his studio;  wet, playful, and sexy as fuck. He rubs his hand along his growing erection. Maybe he should have kept his big mouth shut and fucked her anyway. He could have any of the groupies hanging out by the pool, they’re all willing enough. ‘ _It’s a little like having my own private stable’_ he muses then laughs out loud.  “Yea, I’m a damn Czar,” he mutters, smirking to himself walking over to lean against the door frame. He watches the people playing in and around his pool as they pranced around, drinking his booze, and making themselves at home on his property. It occurs to him that he doesn't even know the majority of them at all. Gabriel seems to know most of them or at least touches them like he knows them. Castiel watches Gabriel walking towards the big house with the girl who had just stormed out of the studio. ‘ _Dammit, why can’t I think of her name?_ ’

Gabriel would, of course, use all his tricks to keep a good-looking model like her under his wing. He wasn’t about to let Castiel chase away a perfectly employable model over sex or the lack of sex in this case.

Castiel spends little time in the big house, preferring the pool house where he has set up his studio. The house and grounds are very nice and bring him extra funds and a nice tax deduction. The house is full of fine furniture, top of the line appliances, and all the modern conveniences. Everything in the house is exactly what people expect from a large house in one of the richest districts on the edge of Austin. He lets Gabriel live in the big house now. Castiel usually sleeps in the small bedroom of the pool house, he is always in here working anyway.

It _is_ a fine house he thinks, his gaze passing over the line of Dogwood and Magnolia trees that he had planted when he moved in, now grown tall and full. ‘ _Practically perfect in every way_ ’, he smiles. Too perfect.

When Gabriel had brought him to tour the house prior to purchase, he had raved about all the modernizations and about the pool out back. “The kitchen has hidden appliances and tuxedo cabinets, sleek wood paneling, like a scene ripped out of the latest James Bond movie!” Gabriel had exclaimed, “Black and white with soft grey accents, marble and butcher block countertops! And the floors dude! The floors are hardwood with beautiful inlaid details. Surely you like the floors?” he continued detailing the upgrades in the large plantation style house. “...smart house automation Cassie, LED wall pads where you can adjust the lighting and thermostats, you can even run your house from your phone.” He ran across the large space to point out all the features on the screen, “Voice activation, top-of-the-line security system and infrared exterior cameras…” at this point Castiel had tuned him out and gone upstairs to check out the bedrooms.

Castiel did live in the big house while he rebuilt the pool house. Now though, Gabriel has his old room, the master suite. Other than allowing Gabriel to live in the house, Castiel only uses the kitchen.  In fact, he often rented out the large great room and industrial kitchen for events. There have been all sorts of fundraising events held in his house, none of them his. Not that he cared, he’d been dealing with promoters, fundraisers, and party planners since he was fifteen; the type of people who seemed to be born with the ability to use others to their own advantage.

 

# # #

Castiel sat on a stool in the kitchen at the Country Club, polishing a large silver tray. For a first job, working in the kitchen of his Uncle’s club wasn’t too bad.

“Well, aren't you a handsome young man?” The event planner, a tall woman with her hair pulled into a tight bun, had eyed Castiel as she passed through the kitchen of the country club. “Is he old enough to work out front?” She asked her assistant without taking her eyes off him.

‘ _I don’t look that young, do I_ ? _Does she usually let people younger than sixteen work for her? Uncle Michael made me wait until after my birthday to get this job_.’ Castiel thought as he looked at his reflection in the shiny silver tray.

“That’s Michael Milton’s nephew. Mr. Milton wanted him to start working with you,” replied the assistant.

“Oh. Well!” the woman said, straightening her fitted grey skirt and jacket, “In that case, what is this little darling doing in the kitchen!? He needs to get suited up and work the main floor,” she huffed at the assistant. “He can carry a tray of hors d'oeuvres without dropping something, can’t he?” She looked down her nose at Castiel who was blankly staring back at her.

The assistant guided Castiel out of the kitchen and into a room filled with others who would be working as waiters for the evening event. “Get this one a suit, show him how to carry the trays, and how to work the room.” With that, the busy assistant rushed out of the room, leaving Castiel in the hands of a tall thin man dressed in a tux.

The man eyed Castiel up and down. Castiel had chosen to wear jeans and a t-shirt because he was supposed to be washing dishes that night. The man looked as though he had been handed a slug. “That fidgety little woman and her diva of a boss will drive me to an early grave.” He muttered, leading Castiel to a rack of suits and finding one that would fit the young man. Castiel took the clothes behind a screen in the corner. Once dressed in his own penguin suit, he stepped out, ready for instructions.

Castiel was practicing with a tray when the uptight event planner came hurrying into the main room. Her presence announced by her incessant barking of instructions into her headset and to her assistant seemingly at the same time.  Castiel was startled and almost dropped his tray.

“Oh darling,” the planner said looking around the room. “I do like to have the good looking ones out in the main room mingling with the patrons,” she smirked. “Everyone likes eye-candy, and all these pretty faces will make for happy donors! We know that happy donors write bigger checks.”  She and her assistant barely slowed down as they walked through the room and out the other side.

Castiel thought about what she had said about “happy donors”. He knew that if he wanted to get into the University of Chicago, he was going to need to work hard and impress the right people.

His parents didn’t have much when they were alive and after they were hit by a drunk driver, most of the life insurance money Castiel had inherited was spent on funeral expenses. His Uncle Michael kept close tabs on the remaining funds. Michael wouldn’t allow any to be released to Castiel until he was twenty-one, five long years away.

Michael had always had a certain dislike for Castiel’s father, which bled over into a cold, detached relationship with Castiel. Michael never fully adjusted to the idea of his sister marrying a ‘no-class writer’. Castiel's mother had been disowned by her family when she had married against their wishes. The fact that Castiel was born four months after their small courthouse wedding didn’t sit well with her family either.

Castiel’s parents had both been established artists in their own right. His father had written science fiction and fantasy novels and his mother had been a painter. He had learned many skills from both parents.

Having little money, his parents took him on trips to local junkyards to find furniture and other items that his father could repurpose and use in their tiny apartment. He had always loved those outings. To him, it was always fun to be with his parents. His young mind did not comprehend the social stigma of being poor and needing to repurpose other people's refuse rather than buy new items. Being a child, he had thought that it was all pretty exciting. Junkyards, farmers markets, yard sales, even tipping into dumpsters with his father were all adventures

An old wood-burning stove would always be his favorite haul. He and his father had driven out to an old farm early one morning. They dug through the rancher’s barn searching for anything they could possibly use. His father had worked out a deal with the man to help clear the old barn before it was torn down to make space to build a new one, he would even pay them to come back and help pull it down later that summer. His father had plans for some of that wood.

Castiel was the first to spot the stove, buried under a pile of old bicycle parts, rusted and covered in dirt and cobwebs. “Papa look!” he pointed at the pile, “Mama said she needed a new stove, didn’t she?” he ran over pulling at some of the bike parts, “That one at home only has one…rrggg...” he grunted as he pulled with all his weight, “... burner that works and you said the oven part is all… ugh…” he dislodged some spiny broken wheels and fell onto his bottom, “...dead, right?”

The man helped the boy to his feet. “I did say that. But the stove at home uses gas and this is ...“ he looked at the old stove, “... This is truly an antique. Son, this is a wood burning stove.”

“Cooool.” Castiel exclaimed, “Then we can cook like we’re camping all the time!”

“Let’s get this thing uncovered and cleaned up. Then we’ll bring your mama to look at it. If she says it’s okay….” he paused as the boy began struggling with the pile of scraps, he gave the stove one more look, “Cas, only if your mama says okay will we take this giant beast home.”

Papa and three men from the junkyard hauled the huge iron stove up to the tiny apartment. Castiel helped by making several trips back and forth, bringing in the smaller parts. Even the plates for the burners were heavy, solid iron.

The little family worked together to bring the stove into a functioning state, luckily it had all the main parts, only needing a new smokestack. Castiel and his mother found some old-fashioned appliance paint and once it was rust free and primed, they painted it teal and white. He remembers his mother actually using the stove to do the cooking. She had called him ‘hera hero’ for finding it for her.

His father never got the chance to make use of the old barn wood. Along with several other items from his childhood home, Castiel had stored the wood for years, until he purchased his own home.

 

 

# # #

He loves his studio, it is a perfect size. All the furnishings in here had been built or restored by Castiel’s own hands. The old wood burning stove sits on his patio, he uses it in the cooler months as a fire pit now. He’d even built his bed and the cherry and maple wood bench, using wood he milled himself which came from a maple tree near his parent’s gravesite. A huge limb fell during a storm and he’d talked the owner of the cemetery into letting him have it.

He glances around the room taking in more of the various items he had added to his space. Many of the items are salvaged things that others considered refuse or ugly, like the cabinets that were from the local school district’s rebuild.

He had taken up all the original flooring and used the wood from the old barn. Stored along with the wood from the barn, was a load of old gunstock he had rescued. Using the two together gave the floor a unique and beautiful coloring. It had turned out better than most of what he saw in flooring stores.

Castiel had begun woodworking while he was still in grade school, he’d learned that adults loved to teach children and if he just asked, they would teach him things for free. He had spent time with an old rancher who was keen on showing Castiel how to build everything, even taught him how to mill wood and use a lathe. The old man had given him a wooden mallet that was over a hundred years old, which he still uses.

Smiling, Castiel looks back out to the pool, feeling good about himself and his space, as well as a little giddy with the thought of being a Czar looking out at his minions. A blonde man with wide shoulders and a broad muscular chest pulls himself up out of the water, eyes focused on Castiel’s body.

Watching the man climb up from the water, Castiel soaks in every inch of the man as he rises onto the patio. He casts his eyes down the man’s long legs and back up to his narrow waist and beautiful hip bones that frame the inciting V, drawing his eyes to the man’s naked cock. ‘ _Oh, what the hell_ , he thinks.  The urge to wrap his hand around that cock and plow into that firm ass has built to an undeniable level of arousal that a shower and spank-bank marathon wasn't going to satisfy.  ‘ _Someone is getting fucked tonight_.’

He nods at the man, raising one eyebrow, and turns back into the studio. The man obediently follows him into the bedroom.

 

Awakened by the sound of the shower and the morning sun shining in through the still open window, Castiel rubs his eyes, rolls over and stretches his body fully, reveling in the feeling of the pull in his muscles after an active night. ‘ _Maybe if he thinks I’m still asleep he won’t want to talk to me._ ’ Castiel groans covering his head with his pillow. One night stands always seemed more complicated when the … guest… doesn’t just sneak out quietly.

Moments later the mattress sinks next to him as the guy crawls over to Castiel. “You awake, man?” The guy kisses him on the shoulder, Castiel huffs sleepily, hoping the guy will get the subtle message and just go.

The guy reaches around Castiel's waist, sliding down to his dick. “Dude, really?” Castiel sighs, grabbing the hand. He squints up at the pretty blonde “We had some fun last night, but it’s time for you to go. I got shit to do today.”

The guy raises his hands in surrender and backs off the bed disgruntled. “Ya fuckin’ dick. Lisa was right, you are an ass!”

Castiel frowns at the man, “Yeah, well, it was _your_ ass that _my dick_ was fuckin’ last night.” He retorts. ‘ _Damn!_ Lisa _, that’s her name_ ’ Castiel rolls back over wearily as the guy gets dressed and left, slamming the door behind him.

Once he’s alone, Castiel showers. Washing off the evidence of last night, he pauses as he bends to wash his legs, “Shit, I didn’t even ask that guy his name. I _am_ a dick.”

Throwing on his favorite jeans and a soft t-shirt, he heads up to the big house to find some breakfast. Walking past the pool, he shakes his head disgustedly at the trash littered everywhere. Bottles, cans, plates, ‘ _Is that underwear?_ ’  He feels a momentary pang of guilt for the caretaker but figures he pays the guy well enough to deal with this crap.

“Great party yesterday, Cassie!” Gabriel grins and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as Castiel enters the kitchen. “Noticed you preferred the blonde to that brunette.”

“Mhmm” Castiel grunts back “Is that my cereal?”

Gabriel grimaces, “It was.” He tips over the empty box.

“Shit, Gabe. Buy your own damn cereal!” Castiel, foregoing breakfast, grabs a cup of coffee and heads back out to the pool house to gather the items he had purchased for his first visit to the Center.

Choosing to teach an art class at a mental health center wasn’t a spur of the moment idea. This is something he had thought about for quite some time now. Teaching art had been his mother's livelihood, she’d loved teaching children. Castiel had taught some kids classes but the little ankle biters tended to grind his nerves instead of giving him a sense of fulfillment. He had attempted to line up classes with special needs groups before, but this is the first time it was actually going to happen.  

The director of the Lady Bird Center for Mental Health, Richard Roman, seemed like a man well versed in business. Castiel came to this conclusion when he immediately noticed the way the man dressed. Wearing a tailor-made double-breasted suit, most likely from Limatus Bespoke in Austin, gave the impression that he liked to see and be seen by the ‘high and mighty’. The meeting with the director and (even more so) the head counselor, Eleanor Visyak, had been pleasant and helped him make the final decision to begin classes at this particular center.

Putting the box of supplies in the bed of his truck, he takes a deep breath and steadies himself before he makes the drive to the Center.

“All you’re doing is meeting this group and introducing yourself,” he tells himself nervously. “Everything will be fine. They’re all adults…. maybe a bit unhinged, but still adults.” He starts his truck and begins the hour-long drive. “Cas, man, don't judge these people before you even meet them, you’re better than that,” he scolds himself. “These people just have their own issues that they need help working through. They’re probably saner than the idiots you work with every day.”

He puts in his favorite Zeppelin mixtape and turns up the volume, settling in for the drive.


	3. Group Session Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, everyone, My name is Mr. Fizzles…,” he begins, which causes several in the room to erupt into laughter, “... and I need to let you know about that some things are just unacceptable…” He lifts the puppet a bit higher and speaks louder over the laughter... ... Dean rolls his eyes. ‘Yep, I’m surrounded by real freaks and weirdos. They make me seem almost normal.’ He shakes his head as Garth continues his rant. Dean tunes out about half of what’s being said and plays with the hem of his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The symbol # # # shows the beginning and end of a memory/flashback.  
>  _'Italics show thought'_

Maybe he doesn’t actually share, but he did attend the group session like his doctor told him to. Man, he is surrounded by some real weirdos. Dean’s eyes scan the room as the other patients trickle in and meander to the chairs arranged in a circle.

That skinny guy, Garth, sitting a few seats over from him keeps playing with his sock. Dean watches the man as he plays with the stretched out sock and glances nervously about the room. Garth is almost as quiet as Dean.

Rufus, a grumpy-old-black man, wheels into the room and takes a spot in the circle, shoving the chairs out of his way and grumbling about Vietnam, his back injury  and government conspiracies. Dean likes this old guy, sometimes he sits near him in the day room and secretly listens to his stories.

Ed and Harry, who always seem to be together came in and sat on either side of Rufus, talking across him. Rufus growls at them. These two tend to gravitate to the old man, hovering around him, even when they’re not including him. Their conversation shifts and they try to include him in some theory about the government using ghost to spy on us all. Rufus counters many of their theories with outlandish sounding ideas of his own.

Aimee, Ruby and Ash are arguing over the last donut. While they are busy yelling at each other, Joshua steps in, takes the donut, quietly sits next to Dean. Joshua and Dean share a silent moment, both looking at the donut and acknowledging the idiocy of the other three.

Marv, or as he wants to be called Metatron Scribe of God, comes walking in with Eleanor Visyak, the psychologist who leads this particular group. He is explaining about a stone tablet he has hidden in a library on another plane of existence, or something to that effect. Dean will never understand what that little man is talking about.

Following Eleanor and Marv are three of Dean’s least favorite orderlies. Dean presses his fingers against his bruised ribs, recalling how these three had tackled him just days ago. The largest of the three orderlies bumps Dean’s chair as he makes his way passed, Dean jerks his head around angrily and watches the man. The orderly grins at Dean, makes a fist, then pops his knuckles on both hands. Dean really wants to take that guy out.

Joshua leans close to Dean, “My boy,” he says quietly “if you weren’t bound by the rules of this institution, and society in general, would that idiot be able to lord over you? You seem to be a smart young man, perhaps you can outthink that bubble head. That would lead to much better results than rewarding his violence with violence of your own.”

Dean opens his mouth, closes it again, then opens it again, attempting to reply to Joshua. However, at that exact moment, Eleanor greets the group and asks that everyone take a seat in the circle so they can begin. Dean settles in and begins to think of ways to keep from participating and still keep within the parameters of his doctor’s orders to attend these group sessions. He also thinks about some ways to make ‘good ole linebacker orderly’s’ disappearance look like an accident. He gives said orderly a glare and Joshua clears his throat. Dean crosses his arms around himself and presses his fingers into his sore ribs. Feeling old scars, he embraces the pain, allowing his mind to focus on something other than the noise around him and the buzzing in his ears. Not nearly as calming as three fresh lines cut into his skin, the pain of his bruised ribs does help quench his anger. He can feel his heartbeat begin to regulate.  

Eleanor begins by welcoming everyone and asking who would like to speak to the group first. There is some murmuring among the crowd, Garth plays with his sock, Rufus shifts in his wheelchair making it squeak which causes giggles from Ruby and Aimee.

Garth raises his hand and Eleanor recognizes him to speak. He slips off his sock and slides it onto his hand. Raising the socked hand into the air, he uses it as a puppet and with a voice pitched higher than his normal voice he begins to tell Eleanor that he has something important to say. On his own, Garth doesn’t talk much at all, and rarely above a whisper. But when he has something to get off his chest, that sock puppet pokes his smelly head up and nothing is off limits. She nods in approval.

“Hello, everyone, My name is Mr. Fizzles…,” he begins, which causes several in the room to erupt into laughter, “... and I need to let you know about that some things are just unacceptable…” He lifts the puppet a bit higher and speaks louder over the laughter.

Eleanor shushes the others and motions for Garth, or Mr. Fizzles, to continue.

“Thank you, Eleanor.” says the puppet. “As you all know, the mashed potatoes at lunch yesterday were extremely lumpy and this sort of food disrespect cannot be tolerated….”

Dean rolls his eyes. ‘ _Yep, I’m surrounded by real freaks and weirdos. They make me seem almost normal._ ’ He shakes his head as Garth continues his rant. Dean tunes out about half of what’s being said and plays with the hem of his shirt. He imagines being at a bar with a group of friends watching baseball on TV. Per usual, he adds his only friend from school and his baby brother to his perfect group of beer drinking friends. Even if Sam was only 6 months old when he died, sometimes Dean likes to pretend that they grew up together with Mom and Dad. And Charlie… ‘ _God, I miss Charlie.’_ Nothing was ever right after… well, after.

The group is quiet and all eyes are on Dean. Eleanor speaks up again, “Dean, are you with us?”

Dean acknowledges her with a nod.

“Would you like to share with the group today, Dean?” She asks.

Dean shakes his head and focuses on his hands, playing with a thread on his t-shirt hem.

“Perhaps you can share your thoughts about the lunch program or maybe tell the group about your favorite TV show or what board game you like to play with your friends in the day room,” Eleanor urges.

Frowning, his brow tensely furrowed, Dean shakes his head more vigorously. He doesn't like to watch TV in the day room because daytime TV shows are horrible. Board games here are all missing pieces and games usually lead to fights. He knows fighting is against the rules and Dean always gets in trouble when he fights.

Dean cautiously looks around the circle taking in the shoes and bare feet of the participants, not wanting to look at the faces. Shoes are simple, boring, sometimes tattered things. Faces are complex, judgmental, usually aggressive things. Yes, he prefers watching their shoes. Someone in the group squeaks out a sort of giggle, another is quietly singing off key, Dean stays quiet, he watches the shoes. He notices a new pair of shoes enter the room, expensive looking brown leather wingtips. Dean knows those shoes, he glances up the man’s attire, per usual he is wearing a tailored, double breasted suit.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Ms. Visyak.” Richard ‘Dick’ Roman, the director of the Lady Bird Center for Mental Health, loftily greets the room, unapologetic as he interrupts the group session.

Eleanor smiles an annoyed greeting and Dean lets out a sigh of relief, glad to have the attention on someone besides him.  

“Please give me your attention,” he orders the room. “This fine gentleman is Mr. Castiel Novak,” he gestures toward the man who walked in after him.

Dean looks at the man’s shoes, or rather his sandals. Dean follows up the line of the man’s worn jeans to his plain brown belt, half tucked t-shirt and flannel overshirt. ‘ _Guess his mom didn’t dress him this morning._ ’ Dean grins to himself. He looks back down the man's body taking in the easy, worn, casual appearance. ‘ _This is how a fine gentleman dresses?’_

“Mr. Novak is a local artist who also happens to  be internationally well known in the art community.” Dick continues, giving himself a virtual pat on the back for having aligned himself with such a famous person. “Mr. Novak has offered to teach art classes at our fine facility. Isn’t that nice?” He speaks to the group as if they are children. The group reacts with a mix of cheers, giggles, oohs, clapping and a few grumbles.

The artist waves and greets the group. “Hello, everyone,” he says in a voice that catches Dean’s attention, causing him to look up at the man as he is entering the circle to take a seat next to Eleanor. The artist is smiling at the group, genuinely looking happy to be here. “I’m very excited to have this chance to share my love of art with your small group. I’ve talked with Mr. Roman, Ms. Visyak, and with several of the doctors attending here and we are in agreement that art can assist in the healing process. There are many types of artistic styles and I would like to utilize some of these to help each of you find an outlet that is healthy and helpful in your own treatment regiment.” The group participants clap, cheer and Rufus grumbles, per usual,  at the idea of art classes. Dean watches the artist’s hands as he is explaining how the classes will work and the types of ideas he has about art therapy.

Eleanor motions to one of the orderlies who brings a box to the artist. “These have been gifted by Mr. Novak,” she says as another orderly helps pass out books to the group participants. “This is a good opportunity for you to all learn and enjoy new skills, the art classes can be fun for everyone, as long as you follow the rules.”

Just as she begins to explain the rules of attending the classes, a fight breaks out between Aimee and Ruby. This causes Ed and Harry to start yelling. They both stand up on their chairs, barking orders for everyone to duck and cover. Rufus moves his wheelchair causing it to hit Harry’s chair and Harry falls in Rufus’ lap. Ash is cheering and shouting, “Cat fight! Rip her shirt off!” Garth and Mr. Fizzles hide behind a chair and Marv wanders off trying to find more snacks on the table.

Dean freezes, slumped down in his seat.  It’s all too loud, too much is happening too close to him. He just tightly wraps his arms around himself, wishing he wasn’t in this stupid group. He presses hard on his bruised ribs sucking in a breath; closing his eyes, trying to find a place for his mind to settle.

Cracking one eye just a slit, he peeks up at the artist. Castiel sits still for a moment taking in the eruption and reactions of each individual before jumping to action.

Dean watches as the orderlies stop handing out books and head toward the two main areas of commotion, none too soon in his opinion. But before either orderly gets to the two women, the artist has knelt down next to them and is speaking to them in a calm, soothing voice.

“Ladies,” he begins, “...right now all these books are exactly the same.” He hands each woman her book. “Please, take your seats and allow me to explain my idea for these.” He points at the books in the women’s hands. They quietly nod and stare at the artist. Dean’s never seen them settle a fight so quickly and watches expectantly for them to start throwing punches again. Even Eleanor is amazed at the artist’s ability to calm the angry women.

 The group is much calmer as Castiel asks the orderlies to finish handing out the rest of the books. “Okay,” he holds up a book as he stands in the center of the circle, “...these are journals. They all have the same plain cover and blank lined pages.” He flips the pages in the one he is holding. Others in the group look at their own book. Dean watches the artist’s graceful movements.

“The first assignment is for you to personalize the cover of your journals.” He holds up another journal from his bag. This one is well worn and the cover has drawings and writing in many colors. The artist smiles at the group, “This was my first journal. As you can see, I’ve done quite a bit of personalizing.”  There are some giggles and other sounds of interested agreement. “Next week, at our first class, I want to see how you decided to decorate your own journals. The second part of the assignment is to write or draw something inside your journal which will also show your personality.” He grins at his book as he looks inside the front cover “Make them yours.” Castiel steps forward and hands Dean the new, unused journal he was using as an example.  Dean doesn't breath until the man moves away, he just stares at his hands. 

Eleanor stands up next to Castiel “Thank you Mr. Novak. I’m sure everyone is excited to begin their projects and we are all looking forward to seeing you next week.”

Castiel gathers his messenger bag and waves goodbye to the group. Some members of the group surround him to bid him goodbye and thank him for the journals, while others wander off.

Dean stands against the wall, tightly hugging his journal to his chest. His own personal journal. Watching the others as they interact with the artist, he studies the artist’s body. When his eyes are once again roaming up to the man’s shoulders, the artist turns toward him and their eyes momentarily meet. Dean inhales sharply and feels frozen for what feels like minutes, but, in reality, had to be only seconds. He blinks and looks down at his own tattered shoes, unsure how to feel. He hasn’t shared eye actual contact with any one in so long. ‘ _What just happened?_ ’ He shivers and rubs his hand up and down his bicep.

Dean watches as Eleanor leads the artist out of the room. Rushing to his favorite window seat in the day room, Dean watches as the artist gets into his pick-up truck and slowly drives down the long driveway. Dean is still staring out the window after the sun sets and dinner time is announced. He follows the others to the dining hall to get his tray of food.

 

# # #

Dean looked down at the free-lunch meal, realizing that free lunches in Texas are the same as free lunches in Kansas.

“Not a bad lunch,” said the red haired girl sitting next to Dean. “See if you can tell me if it’s chicken or beef.” She grinned.

“Maybe it’s both,” he replied to the girl. “It looks alright to me, at least there’s enough here to keep me from getting hungry the rest of the day.”  Then he saw the odd look on her face. “Um…” he backtracked, “I mean, ya know, til dinner tonight, of course.” Dean still wasn’t accustomed to getting three full meals a day.

The girl nodded and smiled brightly at him. “You’re new this year, aren’t you?” Dean just stared at the girl “Well, welcome kiddo! I, for one am excited to have fresh blood in this wasteland we call high school. You can call me Charlie.”

Dean wasn’t exactly sure how to take her statement or her overly excited attitude. He didn’t think he had ever met anyone so … energetic.

“So, besides being a brave eater, what other interests do you have? What’s your favorite anime? Do you play football? You look like you’d play sports. Oh, please tell me you like video games! My uncle owns an arcade, I get to play for free. O-M-G you have to come with me. What’s your favorite subject? I totally love math….”

He smiled at her, wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights “Um.. well, I... ,“ he started, trying to get a word in around her non-stop talking and questions.

“Gosh, yeah, I’m sorry, you go ahead” she laughed. “Just jump in there and make me stop talking.”

Dean wasn’t sure how possible that was. “Well, um, my name’s Dean and I do like to eat.” He grinned, “ I don't play football, but I like baseball. I’ve never been on a team or anything. Video games look like fun but I haven’t really had the chance to hang out at an arcade before…“

“Wait, never been to an arcade? No way!” she gasped dramatically as she placed the back of one hand on her forehead. “Well, we can’t allow such a tragedy to continue!” She grabbed his hand and he instinctively jerked it away. The girl frowned but quickly recovered and gave him a big smile. “Now that you’re my friend, you’re gonna get free games at my uncle's arcade, too.”

Dean squinted at her. “Well, um, who says we’re friends? Today’s the first day of school. You don’t even know me.”  

“I say.” She sat up straight and gave a regal nod. “I have a good feeling about you kid.” She smiled and shared some of her carrot sticks with Dean. “So, now is when you tell me where you live so my mom can drive us to the arcade on Saturday”

“I - I, um … this Saturday? Well, I’m not sure she’d want to drive all the way out to get me… and um, I have chores.. maybe, well.. uhh…” Dean stumbled through thinking up an excuse.

“Dude. I’m sure your chores won’t take all day, and she’ll take me anywhere I want to go. She’s cool like that. All the way out… where?” “You don’t live in town?” Charlie asks, never once pausing for a breath.

Dean bit his lip and glanced around, trying to think of a good lie to get this girl to chose another target for her ‘Project New BFF’ because he wasn’t sure he was up to the task. This was beginning to sound like hard work.

“Wait, you live out at The Ranch don’t you!?” she almost yelled, causing several sets of eyes to turn their way.

Dean looked at the carrots on his tray. Taking one, he popped it into his mouth and shook his head. Maybe if he’s eating he won't have to go into detail about his living status. ‘ _There goes that chance of a friendship._ ' he thought, assuming it was a deal breaker.

“That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to visit The Ranch.” she beamed.

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing, no one ever wanted to be friends with the loser foster kid. Maybe she just wanted to visit the horses and wanted to him as an excuse to get a trip out there…

“You’re the first boy I’ve ever met from there that’s cool enough to hang out with, we are so gonna be besties!” She gave him a pat on the head as she is got up to take her trash to the receptacle. “Almost time for the…,” she began just as the bell for the next class rang. Charlie winked at Dean and held up two fingers “Peace out, Bro!” She said in a farewell gesture. Dean waved awkwardly, tossed his trash, and headed to his next class.

He thought that it might have been the best thing ever when the Kansas court system decided that The Ranch in Austin, Texas was the best place for him.  It wasn’t that he was a bad kid, he’d never broken any big laws, just a few minor ones. Most teenagers have trouble with authority, right? Dean just seemed to be the kid who always got caught, even in other people's predicaments. He had a long history of trouble with the authorities in his short sixteen years of life. He also had quite a chip on his shoulder, having decided early in life that rules had been set in place to hold him down, while giving others the advantage over him.

He thought about the catastrophe at the last school he attended in Kansas before the incident that led to him being sent to Texas. Some of the boys from the football team had cornered him in the boys locker room. Dean was the only one who was expelled for fighting, even though he was not the one who started it _AND_ there were five of them beating him into the floor. How was the visible evidence in that scenario not damning to the other boys? Dean had looked like he was kicked in the face by a mule. A few of the other boys had some bruises where he got a few good hits in, but he really never had a chance.

The teammates had told the Coach that Dean was a fag and that he had tried to molest them in the showers. It wasn’t true. He had looked at Aaron a few times and wanted to ask him out because Aaron had looked back at him the same way more than once. The afternoon of the bashing, Aaron had asked Dean to meet him in the locker room so he could tell him a secret. Dean was excited because he thought that maybe Aaron liked him back so he was happy to go meet him. When Dean found Aaron, Aaron did say that he liked Dean and that he wanted to see what it was like to kiss another boy. Dean smiled at Aaron and reached out, putting his hand on the back Aaron’s neck, leaning in and gently reassuring the other boy with a gentle rub of his fingers on his neck, Dean brought their lips together for a soft kiss. Just as Aaron started to kiss him back, he heard snickering on the other side of the wall of lockers. That was when Aaron pushed him away and accused him of jumping him and trying to rape him. At that point the group of boys proceed to attack.  

The next week Dean was moved to a new foster home in a different town.

That was when he met Alistair.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me.


	4. Castiel Remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning, Cas was just as excited as any other child. He ran from his bed, which happened to be a pull-out couch in the living room, to his parents' bedroom. He jumped on their bed, bouncing, laughing and hugging his parents to wake them up. (He could tell they were faking anyway.) His parents sat up, groggy, and both with just as bad of bed-head as young Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The symbol # # # shows the beginning and end of a memory/flashback.  
>  _'Italics show thought'_

Dick Roman walks Castiel out to his truck, talking nonstop about how lucky he and his facility are to have an artist of Castiel’s stature taking time out of his busy schedule to give free classes to the patients. He rambles on and on about how wonderful it will be, for the facility of course, and how exciting it would be to have Castiel as guest of honor at the next fundraising event. Castiel just smiles as the man keeps talking.

“Please,” he interrupts, wanting to stop the man and take control of the situation, “be sure to speak to my manager about any events you wish for me to attend. Gabriel handles all my business event scheduling.” He shakes Dick’s hand, “If I need to speak with you concerning the art classes, you may leave a message with Ms. Visyak and I will be the one to contact you. I would appreciate you not contacting me directly, Thank you.” Castiel quickly climbs into his truck lest the man starts talking again.

As Castiel slowly pulls away, he looks back at the building in his rearview mirror He notices that the quiet, green-eyed man is watching from the second floor window He wonders what is going through the mind of someone so withdrawn, “Maybe he's like a guru and is waiting for the perfect moment to announce the most profound answer to fix all the wrongs in this messed up world,” he laughs out loud to himself. “More likely he’s planning how to escape that loony bin.”

Over the next week that leads up to the first art class at the Center, Castiel feels both excited and apprehensive. He's never worked with any sort of special needs group, but he's led children's classes, which is something he doesn’t want to put himself through again - he works with adult classes fairly regularly. Although, these days he has become more of a ‘special guest’ to other instructors classes or at conferences. Usually playing the part of a prop for their photo shoots and signing autographs, never really having the chance to properly teach anything at all.

Castiel walks through his favorite art supply store, wondering if he should focus his lessons more toward the children’s spectrum with this group; but, they are all adults. “Shit,” he says aloud and receives a stern look from a woman picking out a coloring book for her child, who just happened to be laying on the floor licking his own shoe. ‘ _Ugh, birth control advertisement live and in person_ ’ he thinks as he grabs a stack of colored pencil sets and heads to the next aisle.

“Stop obsessing, Cas,” he says to himself. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Just start with the basics and learn what skills they already have.” He nods in approval of his own decision and continues looking over the marker sets. “Okay, markers. Check.”  The woman and brat round the corner and she stares at him like he’s a crazy person talking aloud to himself. He taps his earbuds, which are actually playing music and she accepts that he is not nuts, instead, just rudely talking on his phone in public. He sticks his tongue out at the kid when the mother passes, her back is to him. The kid returns the gesture and is promptly told off by his mother for being rude. ‘ _HA! Yes!’_ Smiling, he continues to go over his mental list. “Pencils, markers, .. a-a-and charcoal … where are the charcoal pencils?”  Pushing his buggy back to the previous aisle he finds what he’s looking for. “Aha!” Feeling a bit of freedom as he still pretends to have someone on the phone, he continues his rediculous habit of speaking out loud to himself, even if he’s in a public place. It’s kind of fun.

Once he has all the items for the class, he wanders aimlessly through the store looking at paints and canvases and even walks through the yarn section, enjoying touching the soft wool as he passes by. All the soft yarn reminds him of the last winter he spent with his parents.

# # #

It was late autumn, Cas sat with Mama, next to the wood-burning stove, as she knit hats and gloves for their Christmas. He wasn’t upset to already know what he was getting, it was more fun making things with his mom than being kept in the dark about what he may or may not receive as a gift. He never understood why the other kids were so excited about some strange man breaking into their house in the middle of the night, in the middle of winter, to leave them some toy. The whole idea of Santa Claus actually gave him the creeps.  Besides, he always got a special surprise in his stocking.

Mama had taught him the basic knitting stitches and that year he had made each of them a scarf. A pink one for mom, a green one for dad, and a blue one for himself, he had added tassels in all three colors to each of the scarves. His father wore his proudly all winter and even into spring when it was too warm for a scarf.

Christmas morning, Cas was just as excited as any other child. He ran from his bed, which happened to be a pullout couch in the living room, to his parents' bedroom. He jumped on their bed, bouncing, laughing and hugging his parents to wake them up. (He could tell they were faking anyway.) His parents sat up, groggy, and both with just as bad of bed-head as young Cas.

He pulled his parents into the living room, knowing that this one morning it would be okay if he didn’t put his bed away before starting the day. The whole family piled on his bed, Papa tickled Cas while Mama got up to make some hot cocoa and cinnamon toast, Cas’s favorite.

After they enjoyed their simple breakfast, Cas bounded off the bed and grabbed all three stockings. He loved to be the one to pass out the stockings full of little surprises.

First, he gave his mother hers, “Ladies first, Papa.” He stuck his tongue out grinning at his father. Laughing, the man grabbed his son and hugged him tight as they watched mom pull out each little item from her stocking.

Castiel had gone with each parent separately to buy a gift for the other. He and Papa had gone to the thrift store and he found Mama a pretty hair comb so she could fix her hair. Cas had also carved her a tiny unicorn. It took him four tries because each time he attempted to carve the horn, it would break off. Once he successfully completed one unicorn for his mom, he sanded the little area between the ears on the others and he ended up with three horses for himself.

Papa had given her a necklace with a pretty green jade heart pendant, some fancy chocolates and wrote her a poem. Mama smiled sweetly, she read the poem while Papa put the necklace on her, kissing her neck before she let her hair fall. She read the last phrase out loud.

“Because we're in love,

As everyone can see.

Never a broken heart,

Never a tear cried,

You can hold me in your arms,

And I'll hold you in mine,

We will never let go,

Until the end of time,

'cause I will never leave you,

And you won't leave me.

We will be together

Until forever dies.”

She leaned over and gave Papa a big kiss and a hug. Watching his parents express their love for one another, Castiel felt like his heart was going to burst. He wanted their _forever_ to be just like this. He wanted to always see his parents so happy and so in love. He wanted to find someone that he could love just like Papa loved Mama.

It was Papa’s turn next and Cas was just as thrilled to give him his stocking.

Mama secretly knit him some socks as a surprise gift and had gotten him a bottle of his (her) favorite aftershave from the lady at the market. He could hardly contain himself when his father pulled out the small tube wrapped in Sunday comics.  

Mama and Cas had gone to the farmers market and he spent time at a special booth where the man sold handmade fountain pens. He really wanted to buy one for his father but they were very expensive. Cas, being a smart boy, sat and talked to the man for hours about his process of making the fancy pens. Mama had left him to talk to the man while she did the rest of her grocery shopping. Cas paid very close attention, asking many questions and even had the man take one apart and show him the pieces. Cas was amazed at how many tiny pieces it took to build a pen. There were little tubes and rings, twisty bits and springs. The wood covered up all the secrets within. From the outside these pens were sleek, beautiful works of art. Cas loved the idea that beneath the surface were all these apparently random little things working together to make art become a useful tool.  

The next weekend, Cas visited his old rancher friend and he told the man all about the process of making the pens. He asked if he could use the woodworking tools in the man’s shed. His mother had been able to obtain a kit with all the little working parts because she had traded a pair of hand knit socks for it. Cas had drilled through a wooden block and glued a little tube inside; it fit perfectly. Once he had gotten the little block mounted on the lathe and whittled down to a shape he liked, he began the process of sanding it smooth. He started with the rough sandpaper and worked down to the smoothest. Following the pen salesman's exact instructions, he used a linseed oil and super glue mixture after the rough sanding. As he continued with his creation, he wiped all the dust away between each of the other sandings, until the wood felt completely smooth. His final woodworking step was adding a coat of wax and buffing the wood until it shined. He was almost finished. Lining up all the bits that made the pen a pen, he used the hand press to secure them together piece by piece. Finally, he added the little tube of ink. He was so excited for his papa to see it.

Papa teased Cas by slowly untapping the end of the small tube.

“Papa! Just rip it open!’ he begged, shaking the man’s arm. His mother was laughing at the exchange, knowing how her husband liked to test the boy’s patience.

Once the package was open enough to retrieve the gift inside, Papa slid the object out into his palm. He froze, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

He looked first to his wife, who shook her head and tilted her head motioning to the boy.

“Cas. Did you… make this?”

“Yes, Papa, I learned how and made it special just for you. Look! You can open it here and replace the little tubie thing from any old pen you like. And lookie at this where I carved your initials, and….” the boy took the pen, talking non-stop, and was showing his father all the little carvings and telling him just how he made the channels and about the varnish and type of wood.

Papa was interested, he really was, but he had become overwhelmed by the love and effort this child had put into making gifts for his parents. He had always felt bad about not having any extra money to take the boy shopping for toys and clothes or even out to eat like other parents did for their kids.

He couldn’t even afford to rent a two bedroom apartment and had found a one bedroom apartment over a garage in the poorest neighborhood in Austin. He worried about his son walking to school, passing the boarded-up business and houses, and the sketchy people standing on street corners. The coal trains slowly rumbled down the tracks day and night, sounding their horn at every single intersection. He was amazed at his son’s ability to sleep through the train horns and the blaring sirens. Only a few times had the boy awakened, but that was due to the gunshots echoing off the surrounding buildings. However, any time he mentioned moving or trying to find a place they could afford in a better neighborhood, Cas would wrap his little arms around his neck, hugging him the way only a child full of love could. The boy would regale him with stories about the weird and interesting people he met on his walk to and from school and about the dandelions growing in the cracks in the sidewalks. “Papa, I would live in a little box beside you and mama’s bigger box under the rail bridge as long as you’re there to tuck me in and tell me stories.”

The man grabbed his son and wife as he lost control of his emotions, holding them close. “You two are my whole world, there is nothing that money can buy that would ever replace the love I feel when I’m with you.” He kissed them both, Mama on the mouth and Cas on top of his head.

“Great, Papa. I love you, too. Can I open my stocking now?” the boy asked.

His father laughed right out, falling off the end of the bed, which made everyone laugh until their bellies hurt.

Cas had gotten a pack of six brand new pencils and a new pink eraser, some candy, new socks from Mama and a little black matchbox car.

“I used to have a car just like that, it was a 1967 Chevy Impala. Man, that thing had a trunk nearly as big as this apartment.”

“Oh Papa, you’re lying! No car is that big.” Cas laughed at his dad and zoomed around the room making engine noises for his little car.

# # #

One of the store clerks clears her throat and gives Castiel a suspicious look, that’s when he realizes he is leaning against the shelf of yarn hugging a skein of green wool. He puts the skein in his buggy and quickly steps out of that aisle.

As he continues to stroll through the store, he recalls how the group reacted and interacted. He thinks about how the two ladies battled about something as mundane as receiving a simple empty journal. Such a small interruption in the room had caused such an uproar. ‘ _Maybe those journals were the first gift they had received in who knows how long. It’s not like the patients who live there have any privacy or personal space_.’

There were several outstanding personalities in the group that he knew would definitely add to the challenge, and the reward, of the classes. He looked forward to bringing out the best in these people and in his experience art was a calming, expressive outlet that anyone could participate in, no matter their skill level.

While he had observed the group, Castiel couldn't help but notice the marks on the arms of the green-eyed man. Most looked like old scars, but a few looked like fresh scratches, almost like the man had lost a fight with a very pissed-off cat. Castiel recalls the sadness in the man’s face, how he hugged the little journal so tightly against his chest as the room around him exploded with activity.

Just before leaving the meeting room, Castiel had finally caught the man actually looking up at him. Castiel smiled at the man but he’d looked away so quickly. This man was going to be his biggest challenge; convincing loudmouth people to jot down a few thoughts or draw some simple sketches was easy compared to unlocking the secrets buried in the mind of someone who had such strong barricades built up around himself.

Even with all the commotion happening, fights breaking out and people standing in chairs shouting, that man had been completely still and silent throughout. When Castiel looked into his eyes, he was drawn to him. Looking at the man was like looking at a newly discovered precious work of art, one that he wanted, no he _needed_ , to study and uncover the history of how this beautiful treasure was created and then broken. He felt a sort of calling deep in his soul to gather all the pieces and put this man back together like a beautiful china vase that had been broken. Like the beautiful jade heart pendant that his father had given his mother, the one that had been shattered and mended by his friend, an old Japanese potter who had studied the art of kintsugi.  Absentmindedly, he gripped the charm on the necklace, his mother’s pendant

“Next customer, please.” the cashier brings Castiel out of his thoughts. He makes his purchase and heads home to arrange the supplies into individual kits.

Laying out all the items on the floor in his studio, Castiel looks over his haul. He’d purchased ten of everything. Colored pencils sets, charcoal pencils, black liner pens, and colored markers sets. He’d even gotten them each a case that could fit the everything including their journals, hoping that giving them a place to keep things organized would increase the chance of them keeping track of their kits and decrease the chance of fights breaking out.  Once he had all the items in their individual cases, he took out the list of participants Eleanor had given him. Then he grabbed his own permanent marker set and neatly wrote each person’s name on the outside of the cases.

‘ _Markers, colored pencils, liner pens and charcoal… how did I not realize this?_ ’ he leans back against the cabinet and slides down to the floor. Sitting cross-legged, he leans over, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “Mama,” he utters as he catches his breath.

# # #

Holding tight to Mama's hand, following Papa through the big department store, Castiel was taking in all the sights and sounds. The store was brightly lit with sparkling clean tile floors. The music seemed to be everywhere, Castiel finally spotted the speakers in the ceiling. He looked at all the neatly lined shelves as they walked along the wide aisles. Other shoppers were neatly dressed and polite and more than one clerk had greeted them, asking if they needed assistance or happily directed them to the art supplies section. One clerk even mentioned that they should speak with Steve once they reach the art department, that he would be able to assist with any questions or needs.  

They usually shopped at the thrift shop and the local farmers market. The thrift shop was a very different atmosphere. The floors in the thrift shop were concrete and when he was younger, he remembers Mama lifting him up and placing him in the large flat bin to help her dig through the piles of clothes. There the fluorescent lights flickered and the old man that ran the place had never asked to ‘be of assistance’. Castiel loved the farmers market though. The stalls were set up outside in a large parking lot and spilled out onto the adjoining field. He knew the people who ran the stalls that they frequented, everyone there was happy. He loved talking to the old folk who sat around drinking iced tea and playing checkers.

Papa had decided that Castiel was old enough to have his own set of art supplies. Castiel thought he had been old enough for a while now, his twelfth birthday was last month, and he had been using Mama’s good pens for a long time without ever damaging them.

Mama had saved some money from selling some of her paintings over the weekend at the monthly Art Walk in the Park. Those weekends were his favorite, so many different kinds of artist came together in the city park to sell things. Some even painted new pictures or drew funny caricatures of people.

Papa always took them there early in the morning to set up Mama’s paintings on the big quilt that Grammy had made. Papa told him that they had to arrive first to grab the best spot by the fountain where people made wishes; but, Castiel had heard them talking when they thought he was asleep, and he knew that the booths cost fifty dollars, which was all the money that Mama had for groceries. Mama had cried that night, she was afraid that the police would catch them if they didn’t pay the fee. Papa used his special calm voice to help her stop crying. Castiel was amazed by Papa’s ability to use his calm voice to fix just about any situation, including talking the policeman into letting them keep the spot they had set up by the fountain.

“Look at these paint sets, Cas,” Papa called to him. Castiel let go of Mama’s hand and ran over to look at the paints with him. Cas loved to paint with his mother, he thought about asking his father to let her buy some paints instead of buying him markers, but as much as he loved his mama he really liked the idea of having his own personal set of art supplies.

They took their time looking through all the paints, markers, pencils, canvases and all the fancy sketchbooks. They had enough money to buy a colored pencil set, a black liner pen set that had three tip styles, and a set of colored markers (not the kid kind, but real grown-up markers). Papa also picked out a brand new journal for him.

Castiel was so excited, he couldn’t wait to start using his new supplies, he opened the shopping bag in the car on the ride home. His parents were in the front seat and he was riding in the back, he decided to sit in the floorboard and use the seat as a table so he could write in his new journal. On the inside front cover, in his neatest capital letters, he wrote:

**PROPERTY**

**OF**

**CASTIEL NOVAK**

Just as he finished the ‘K’, Mama leaned back to tell him to sit in the seat properly. However, before he could climb onto the seat, there was a terrible sound of metal crashing on metal and glass was raining down on him. He was thrown down and hit his head on the lower part of the door. He tried to cry out for Mama but his world went dark too quickly.

# # #

Castiel wakes with a shout. He’s soaked in sweat and lying on the floor, he grips the jade heart charm on his necklace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem that Castiel's Father gives his Mother for Christmas.  
> [Until Forever Dies by Serbec - Family Friend Poems](https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/until-forever-dies)


	5. The Ranch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We take a trip down memory lane with Dean...

Dean followed the Sheriff up the steps of the large porch, following Dean, was the social worker, Victor Henriksen, huffing loudly as Dean slowly shuffled his way up each step, doing his best to piss the man off.

Twice, during the trip from Kansas to Texas, he’d been able to escape from Henriksen, but never running far enough to make a clean getaway. He was so tired of being passed off like a used and broken toy. If he could only find a place to crash until he was able to get a job, he knew that he could survive on his own.

A gruff looking bearded man wearing a baseball cap was standing in the doorway leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest.

“That him?” The man asked “Kinda small for sixteen, ain’t he?”

“Yep,” replied the Sheriff. “We’d of had him here sooner but he cut out two nights ago and He stole a cap from one of the employees and was clearing tables. My deputy figured he was angling for tips or pick-pocketing.”

“Fat lotta good it did me.” Dean muttered glaring at the Sheriff and raising his cuffed wrists. The man stepped aside and let them into the house.

Dean sat on the couch while the adults talked above him. He would roll his eyes and scoff out a huff every so often but otherwise stayed out of the conversation.  The bearded man gave him a stern look as the Sheriff and Henriksen filled him in on Dean’s latest discretions.

“Where’d you get that shiner, Sheriff?” The man asked when the Sheriff took off his sunglasses.

Dean smirked and let out a huffed out a laugh, “That’s what you get for being old and slow.”

The Sheriff gave him a dirty look and faked a punch toward the kid, his fist stopping mere inches away from contact with the boys face. Dean’s smile turns into a look of absolute fear.

“That’s what I thought, punk,” he said, smugly as Henrikson patted his arm and led him toward the door.

“I’ll be watchin’ you, don’t think I won’t.” The Sheriff threatens, frowning and pointing at Dean, who was still sitting frozen on the couch, staring wide eyed at the Sheriff. Henriksen practically shoved the Sheriff out the door.

“Not too smart, laughin’ at him like that, boy.” The man said as he fiddled with a paperclip and sat down on the coffee table in front of Dean.

“Well, it was _kinda_ funny.” Dean said, regaining his smirk and snarky attitude. “Why not laugh?”

The man pointed at Dean’s wrists, “Because, you piss him off and he leaves with the key.”

“Oh, right.” Dean held up his hands looking at the cuffs.

The man gently took him by the arm and used the paperclip to unlock the cuffs. That is when he noticed the scrapes and bruises on Dean’s forearms.

“What happened here?” He asked as he turned the injured arm in his hand.

Dean yanked his arm away. “Fight with a werewolf.” There was no way he was going to tell this guy about Alistair or what he had done or made Dean do.

“Humph, werewolf, huh?” The man grunted back at him.

“Well, boy, my name is Bobby Singer and this here is my Ranch. Now, I’ve already read your file and I’ve heard what that sheriff and social worker had to say about you …,” Dean lowered his head.

Bobby continued, “...Which is an awful lot of bull if you ask me…” Dean looked up at the man in shock.

“I know that you had a rough time back there in Kansas, but all that’s behind you now, son. If you’ll let me, I’d like to help you with a fresh start down here, wipe the slate clean so to say.”

Dean looked into Bobby’s eyes for a sign that he was was lying or trying to coax him into his bed, but all he could see was honesty. Dean smiled and held out his right hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bobby.” The two shook hands. Dean figured he might as well give the guy a chance.

“So, why were you busing tables at a burger joint?  I know they weren’t paying you. Were you begging for tips like the Deputy said? You could have been miles away from Henriksen and the Sheriff if you’d kept running. I bet you figured now that you’re in a different state, you could disappear and the law would be none the wiser.” Bobby astutely observed, sounding truly curious.

Dean shrugged, “I was hungry.” He wasn't about to admit to pick pocketing any of those suckers.

“Well, boy, I’m glad they caught you. Austin ain’t a place for a fella your age to be wondering the streets alone. It ain’t so bad here at my place. Least you’ll have three meals and a roof over that hard head of yours.”

Over the next few days Dean got to know some of the other boys who lived at the Ranch and met the workers. There were a lot of chores, farm work and animal care on The Ranch. It was more than merely the name of the place, turned out it really _was_ a working ranch.

Having never been around animals, other than a few dogs and some alley cats, Dean was timid around the horses and other livestock. The first time Benny, the cook/sometimes medic and all-round crazy-cajun, sent him out to capture a chicken for dinner, things went horribly wrong. It took four boys three hours to secure all the freed birds and mend the hutch and surrounding fence. To this day no one was quite sure exactly how all that damage happened. Dean only said, ‘‘Things got out of control”.

Not long after, ‘The Great Chicken Run’, as some of the boys called it, Dean ran into Bobby in the hallway; quite literally.

“ _Oof_ ,” Dean let out a huff as his head hit Bobby in the chest. He looked up from under the towel he was using to dry his hair and he smiled sheepishly at Bobby in hopes of not getting yelled at, “Sorry, sir.”

“I ain’t no Sir, boy.” Bobby grumbled, then looked at Dean more closely with concern in his eyes. “Son, did you get banged up more than you admitted during that battle with the chicken coop?”

Dean raised his injured hand, “Nah, it’s just a little sore.” Then he realized that Bobby was staring at his bare chest.. He’d forgotten to bring a t-shirt into the showers with him and was wearing only lounge pants. ‘ _Shit_ ’ he gulped and held his towel in front of himself.

“I’m fine Bobby.” he said quickly in an attempt to end the conversation.

Bobby placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, but Dean stiffened and leaned away from the touch which caused Bobby to retract his hand quickly.

“Son, if there’s anything you feel the need to unload, you come to me. Nothin’ you ever say will ever go any further than from your mouth to my ears.”

Dean had heard the whole 'Come sit on my lap and tell me your problems, little boy,' bit more than once in his life. “Uh, nah, I-I’m uh.. I’m good, thanks.” Dean said, his voice smaller than he wanted as he sidestepped the man and quickly entered his bedroom, not looking back at Bobby.

For the next few days, Dean steered clear of Bobby, instead, he watched his interactions with the other boys. He noticed that Bobby never made any advances or treated any of the boys special or different. He treated them all with the same gruff attitude he gave the adult workers.  Bobby never tried to make Dean talk about what had happened that evening in the hall either.

As the weeks passed, Dean realized  the staff at The Ranch never treated they boys with any cruelty.  Dean had never seen adults work so well with kids before.  The adults had even taught the older boys to care for the little ones. Everyone had jobs and chores to do and there were a lot of rules. Dean scoffed at some of the rules that he thought were stupid or should’ve only been for the little kids, like the rule about lights out each night at nine-thirty. Dean knew that had to be a rule just for the little ones, he’d never had a bedtime set for him before, or at least not one that he actually followed.  It didn’t take him long to realize that when you wake up at stupid-o’clock in the morning to tend to the animals, nine-thirty at night may as well be mid-night. There were nights that Dean fell asleep well before lights out.

“Hard work is good for ya.” Bobby said when Dean grumbled about being exhausted during dinner one night. Well, Dean had built up quite a bit of muscle - lost some of the softness that made him look s much younger- since he started his chores on The Ranch, so it wasn’t all bad.

When the new school year came around, Dean begged Bobby to let him continue to work full time on the farm and with the the small livestock as he had been over the summer. “Pleeeaassseeee Booobbbeeeee!” Dean whined. “You know how good I am with the chickens now…. and ... there's new fall crops to plant.I’ll... I’ll change the oil in ... in all the trucks! I’ll… “

Bobby stood over the boy with his arms crossed and his cap pulled low over his eyes. “Son,” Bobby laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder, something Dean had come to accept from him, “I know how you feel about school,  God above , knows you’ve whined about it enough over the past weeks.”

Dean grimaced, a little ashamed of his childish behavior.

“But, you have to go to school. Give it a chance. You might even like it. You already know the boys who live here that will be in your grade and the older boys will be riding the bus with you as well.”

Dean still wasn’t happy about the whole new school situation, and his face must have shown his concern.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Bobby looked into Dean’s eyes, “Son, don’t you realize how smart you are? I’ve seen your entry exam scores, top of your class. You’re not some grunt fit to mend fences and clean chicken coops. Your ideas for the new arrangement of the garden to incorporate the proper plants for the new beehives was pure genius. You are an amazing young man, Dean.”

Dean fidgeted and toed his shoe against the edge of the rug. “Aw, Bobby, those tests were all multiple choice, I’m sure I just got lucky. And I just read a couple of books on beekeeping, I love bees cuz they’re so cool and they really help gardens grow better. I’m nothin’ special.”

Bobby wanted to hug the kid, but knew he wasn’t ready for that. “You really believe that don’t you? Dean, good things do happen.” Bobby clapped him on the back, “Now, get your butt upstairs and lay out clean clothes for school tomorrow and get your backpack ready. It’s a long walk if you miss the bus.” Bobby turned and walked toward his office, leaving Dean a bit stunned from the exchange.

Dean did make a friend at school. The very first day, at lunch, a bouncy girl with long red hair, who called herself Charlie even though her name was really Celeste.

Charlie became his first and only best friend. She had informed him, without a doubt, that they were best friends. Even if she was a little, well, a lot bossy, she was loads of fun and he felt more comfortable around her than with anyone his age he’d ever met before. She was what he would have wanted if he had a sister. Most girls he knew wore too much makeup and were silly or wanted to sneak around. Charlie wasn’t like most girls, she was cool.

The two of them did everything together.  They even spent Saturday afternoons at her uncle's arcade or she came to The Ranch and they had all kinds of imaginative adventures. They found some old bike parts in the barn and Bobby told them that if they could build a safe bike that wasn’t going to fall apart and cause someone to be injured, they could use any of the parts they found. Dean even asked the mechanic to teach him how to use the welder so he could make sure the pieces were fit together properly. In the end, they built two bikes, one for each of them. They even found some spray paint and painted them up real nice.

Once the two had transportation they gained a sense of freedom. Riding their bikes got them places faster and was it was easier than walking. Plus, they had the added bonus of riding trails and jumping ramps. They both started riding to school, Dean’s travel being quite a bit longer. He started waking himself up extra early so he could complete his chores before leaving for school. Even on weekends, he would pile out of bed early to make sure all his duties were taken care of so he had time to spend with ‘the Queen of Moondoor’. He’d never before had a best friend, nor had he ever played such far-out games like Dungeons and Dragons or dressed up in medieval looking costumes to be a knight (or sometimes handmaiden).  It didn’t take him long to figure out that he loved playing the games that Charlie came up with. Their bikes became their valiant steeds as they rode together, enjoying the easy nature of each other’s company.

The school year passed in a blink. This had been the first time Dean had ever spent a full year at the same school. Charlie loved his stories about past schools and towns he’d lived in back in Kansas. He only told her the interesting parts, the parts that sounded nice. He never mentioned  the bad stuff; the painful, ugly and scary stuff. She didn’t need to ever know about the monsters. He kept those monsters locked away, deep in the dark pit of his memory. No one here needed to know about his ghosts. Bobby had told him that this was his ‘new beginning’, so he figured all that old stuff could stay locked away.

Summer rolled back around and so did the hot Texas weather. Dean and a couple of the other, older boys were working a fence line, replacing the broken posts and running new barbed wire. He didn’t notice Charlie ride up on her bike and carrying a large basket.

“Hey guys!” she announced as she skidded to a stop close to one of the other boys. “I brought y'all some lemonade and sandwiches.” One of the other boys called out to Dean, who was several yards away pulling the barbed wire farther down the fence line.

Dean dropped the bundle of wire and jogged back to the group, grinning as he reached them and was just about to thank her for bringing lunch when he noticed the look of utter shock on her face. “You okay, Charles?” He asked smiling and shoving her playfully on the shoulder. He was trying to coax back that cheerful smile that he was so used to seeing.

“I… you…. Wha’...?” she started and stopped a few times.

Dean had never seen her at a loss for words, “Dude, what’s with you?” He asked starting to worry that the heat might have fried her brain.  She stared down at his chest with her eyes wide and mouth open as if she was trying to form words. Dean brought his hand to wipe his shirt when he remembered he wasn’t wearing one, his t-shirt was hanging on the post a few yards away. “Shit, Charlie…. I….,” he didn’t know what to say. She launched herself on him and wrapped her long skinny arms tightly around him gripping him in a suffocatingly tight hug like some kind of crazy octopus. She sniffed, ‘ _Is she crying?_ ’ “Shit, Charlie” he started again “I’m okay. It’s…. I... “ he tried again, still unsure how to handle this.

“Dean, why? Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked with tears still in her eyes.

“Tell you?” He pushed her away. “ _Tell_ you?” he asked again, “What? You want to know about this?” He slapped his hand against his scared chest then against each arm, “or these?” He showed some cigarette burns on his back. “Why would I ever lay this shit on you? You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met!” He was yelling now, “I never wanted any of my filth to rub off on you, Charlie! I’ve been to hell and back. You don’t want to know about any of the demons I’ve met! Monsters are fuckin real and I’ve met more than my share! You’re too good to be dragged through the gutter of my life!” Dean fought back the tears. He never wanted her to know what trash he really was, or how messed up his life had always been. Dean turned away, grabbed a sandwich and sat on the ground.

“But, all those scars, those marks...,” she gently touched his arm as she sat next to him in the grass. “All those marks aren’t made by others, are they?” She lowered her head trying to see his face.  He sniffed back tears and turned away from her, eating his sandwich in four big bites.

“Thanks for the lunch. I - I gotta get back to work. See ya later, maybe.” He quickly got up, grabbed his gloves, pulled his shirt off the post, and then ran back to the spot where he had been working.

Charlie wanted to go after him, but knew him well enough that she figured it would just make things worse. He’d be okay in a day or two and would be ready for another adventure or trip to the arcade.

Later that week, her dad mentioned that he had seen Bobby’s truck in town the day she had taken the boys lunch and had asked her why she didn’t ride back with him. She had ridden her bike to The Ranch and didn’t know Bobby was going to make the trip to town that day. A couple more days passed and she still hadn’t heard from Dean. Charlie was worried that she may have upset him more than she realized. She didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, but was truly worried about the scars all over him.

Charlie decided that enough was enough and that that boy was going to talk to her, today. She grabbed her bike and headed to the Ranch.

“Charlie? What are you doing here?” Benny asked instead of a greeting. He was in the small kitchen garden in front of the house.

“Hey, Benny. Is Dean around? I haven't heard from him in a few days and I’m worried.”

“Oh Cher, didn’t anyone tell you? Dean’s been in the hospital.”

“WHAT!?” She yelled. “No one told me!”

Bobby heard her yelling and came out the front door. “What’s going on here?”

“I should ask you the same thing!” Charlie yelled at him. “Dean? In the hospital!!? Bobby! You have to take me to him!” she ran toward the truck, pushing her bike beside her.

Bobby followed the girl and lifted her bike into the bed of the truck.

On the drive to the hospital, Charlie was asking questions and talking non-stop.  It was so distracting that Bobby pulled off to the side of the road. “Child!” He boomed over her unceasing voice, “If you will shut that mouth of yours for five minutes, I’ll tell you what I know.”

Charlie put her hand over her mouth and nodded with wide eyes. She mimed zipping and locking her mouth closed.

“All I’ve been able to find out is what the other boys have told me. Dean hasn’t said a word since he’s been in the hospital. Didn’t say much before either, just that he was sorry for causing trouble.” The girl nodded her understanding and motioned for him to go on. “Me and Benny were about to call the boys in for dinner when one of the boys who’d been out on the fence with Dean came running in the back door, out of breath and panting so much we had a hard time deciphering what he was trying to tell us. Basically, all the boy could cough out was “Dean’s hurt at the… at the corral.” That was enough for me and Benny to get in the truck and head down to find him.”

“Mmo mi mod!” Charlie mumbled through closed lips.

“When we got to the corral, the other boy said that he had just regained consciousness but was bleeding from several small wounds. When he saw me, he started repeating, 'I’m sorry' but wouldn't explain what had happened.”

“Mnn mwen mwut?” she mumbled

“Then, I took that idjit to the hospital.” Bobby replied. “Child, that boy tried to run off when I pulled up to the hospital, and him with a broken leg!” He looked at Charlie and motioned for her to unzip her lips. “Has he ever told you about havin’ a fear of hospitals or why he’d try to run like that?”

Charlie frowned and looked out the front window, her eyes momentarily losing focus, lost as she was in thought. “You should drive us on to the hospital, Bobby,” she replied. “I think I can get him to talk. I am his queen after all.” She was referring, of course, to their many awesome adventures and all the times he was her knight or handmaiden when she played the queen.

When Bobby and Charlie exited the elevator they saw two of the boys from The Ranch sitting outside Dean’s room. “Bobby….,” one boy started, “...before you say anything, he told us to get out.” They were supposed to be keeping Dean company because he’d been quite upset since the accident and Bobby was worried about him causing himself more damage.

Bobby sighed and patted the boy on the shoulder, “Y'all head down and get some snacks, I’ll take ya back to The Ranch with me shortly.” Bobby motioned for Charlie to follow him into Dean’s room. He pushed the door open.

“I SAID, GET THE HELL OUT!” Dean yelled and threw plastic cup which hit the wall by the door and bounced around on the floor.

“What in tarnation?” Bobby growled in his ‘last warning’ voice, “What is going on here, boy?”

Dean quickly turned toward the door, hissing in pain as his body reminded him of his injuries. “OH MY GOD! Bobby!” He cried out. “I- I’m so sorry! Those guys, they… oh, man… I’m sorry, p - please Bobby!” Dean began to cry, unable to stop the tears no matter how hard he tried. He blamed the pain, not his emotions. “I didn’t mean it. Please, Bobby, I’m sorry!” He climbed out of the bed, but stumbled when his cast hit the floor.

“Dean!” Charlie pushed past Bobby and grabbed at Dean.

“Shit!” Dean yelled in shock when he saw her. Completing his fall to the floor and landing hard on his ass he glared up angrily. “Bobby! What the hell is SHE doing here?”

Bobby opened his mouth to answer but closed it again when she beat him to the punch.

“Excuse me!” Charlie he stood over Dean looking very cross, her hands on her hips. Dean gulped and looked back at Bobby, this time for support.

Bobby shrugged. “I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole,” he commented, as he walked over to help Dean off the floor. With a grunt, he lifted the boy back onto the bed. “I’m gonna let you kids talk. I’ll be in the cafeteria with the other boys.”

When Bobby left, Dean tried to give Charlie puppy dog eyes, but she wasn’t backing down. “What do you mean by, ‘What’s SHE doing here?’  SHE has been worried sick about you for the last week. SHE just found out that you nearly died. And YOU didn’t even have the decency to call me when you nearly died!?”

Dean looked at her in shock, “You were worried about me?” He tilted his head, giving her a questioning look. ‘“But, I figured, you know… I thought you were, done, with me, I mean, you know, after…” he stopped, not wanting to say it out loud.

“After.....?” She asked.

“You know. You…saw. I figured,” he said with a voice so small he barely recognized it himself, “no one ever wants to be friends with a freak like me.”

“Dean” Charlie said his name quietly. She sighed sadly feeling the anger drain out of her. “Oh, Dean. You really believe that don’t you?”

He looked at her with tears streaming down his face. No longer caring if they fell.

“Dean, you’re my best friend. I love you.” She leaned over the bedside and kissed his forehead. It was possibly the sweetest gesture the two had ever shared.

She climbed onto the bed, scooching him over. Using the corner of the sheet she wiped his tears. He leaned his head onto her shoulder and she pulled him in close, hugging him and humming sweetly as she rubbed his back. Nothing else needed to be said, he could feel her love in the tender way she soothed him. He felt safe and secure.  Lying there on the hospital bed together, they both cried until he fell asleep in her arms.


	6. Broken Pencils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During his shower, Castiel tries to focus on the events of the day instead of the nightmare that woke him much too early this morning. ... Today is the first day of his new art classes at the Lady Bird Center. Shaking off the chill that runs up his spine and forcing himself to concentrate on the positive, ...

During his shower, Castiel tries to focus on the upcoming events of the day instead of the nightmare that woke him much too early this morning. It’s not often that he dreams about his parents, but lately, he’s been waking to the nightmare sounds of crashing metal, breaking glass, and his mother’s beautiful face morphing into a distorted, screaming, shattered image of blood and fear.

Today is the first day of his new art classes at the Lady Bird Center. Shaking off the chill that runs up his spine and forcing himself to concentrate on the positive, he reviews multiple checklists in his head as he washes. Envisioning the art cases all laid out on his floor, double checking as he remembers placing markers, color pencils, charcoal pencils, liner pens, and erasers in each case. It was enough basic equipment for any budding artist. Next, he lists the names of each participant, picturing them as he had drawn them on the lid of each individual case. All the cases were now in a cardboard box sitting by the door, ready to be taken to his truck.

While dressing, he recalls his previous visit, noting the triggers and reactions of the group members. He had been shocked at the way the two women burst into a fight, snatching and grabbing at each other, screaming profanities with one accusing the other of stealing her journal. In reality, the orderly only had the opportunity to hand the first woman her journal and was attempting to hand the second one her’s when the fight broke out. The thing that most captured his attention during the unruly scenario was how the green-eyed man had been completely still with a look of overwhelming fear on his face, as he glanced around the room for any possible escape. The man didn’t even budge when others were jumping around in chairs and yelling. The incident had been a learning experience for Castiel. He must be careful as he interacts with this group, he needs to be more aware of vocalizing his intentions and expectations.

Loading the art cases into the bed of his truck, he makes a mental picture of the person whose name was on each box. When he handles the box with the name “Dean” artfully drawn on the lid in emerald green letters, Castiel pictures the depth of those green eyes, filled with so much emotion. What was it about this man that seemed to pull at Castiel’s very core?

* * *

 

As the group gathers in the classroom, Eleanor is busy making sure everyone brought their journals. There’s a box of pencils, crayons, and markers on the front table, though most of the pencils and crayons were broken or worn down and the markers weren’t in much better shape; as it happens when these sort of supplies are shared.  But, she had gathered the best of what she could find from the dayroom and her own office. Though the Center had never provided actual art classes before, they did keep some art supplies on hand for the patients. This class is as exciting for the counseling staff as it is for the patients involved.

The room is arranged so that two people sit at each table.  Prior to the class, Eleanor had made name cards for everyone and taped them to the tables. Doing her best to keep the agitators separated.

Dean finds his name and notices he’s sitting with Aimee

‘Well, _that’s better than having to sit with Ruby._ ’ But he wishes he could sit with Joshua.

There’s some grumbling and complaining as everyone takes their seat.

Eleanor has the group’s attention prompting them to settle. No one notices Castiel standing in the corner of the room, quietly watching and assessing.

“Thank you, Ms. Visyak.” Castiel states loud enough to be heard over the group’s grumbling and chatter.  His voice causes heads to turn as he makes his way to the front of the room.

“Hello, everyone,” he smiles to the class. “I hope you all listened to my instructions last week and have some interesting covers to show me.” He looks around at the participants as he holds up his personal journal.

“First thing today, we’ll take a look at everyone's journal covers and see how you decorated them. Who wants to go first?”

Aimee, Ruby, Ash, and Marv all raise their hands. Ash is sitting front left, so Castiel decides to start with him and go across the room to save any delay or upset. He tells the class his intentions to ensure there is no arguing over the sharing order. The act of showing off the journals was active, loud and fun, even funny at times. The class seems to be enjoying themselves. Going across the room each person shows their work and some explain their cover art.

Ash had drawn marijuana leaves and music notes - no explanation needed there - the man simply grinned.

Rufus shows his little scene of a tire swing in a tree that stands in a field with flowers covering the green grass. He grunts and Eleanor asks him to tell a little about the image.

“Well, it's a tree, ain’t it. I like trees, and when I was a kid I used to swing on a tire just like that.” He grumbles out his explanation.

“Ooo look at all the pretty little flowers. Big bad Vet drawing dainty little flowers.”  Ash teases.

“I’ll flower your ass you little shit…,” the older man starts.

“Woah, there Rufus,” Eleanor begins, “...settle down. Ash, you don’t need to comment if you’re going to be unkind.”

Ed is next, he had drawn a UFO that looked like something out of a 1950’s B movie, it even had yellow lines beaming down and a cow being abducted. He began telling a story about government involvement in farm animal abductions and how all our beef was actually from alien cows.

“Wow, okay. Thank you, ... Ed, is it?” Castiel interrupts. “Let’s move on so everyone has a turn.”

Ruby had bedazzled her name in jewels, very large, all caps, across the cover. “My journal needs to be as beautiful as I am.” She states arrogantly, looking around for anyone to challenge her statement.

Castiel grins at the woman’s attitude, “Thank you, Ruby. You and your journal are both indeed beautiful.”

Harry drew a haunted house. “Very good, Harry. That reminds me of Scooby Doo, I like it! You’re good at drawing cartoons.” Castiel remarks as he smiles at the man.

“Cartoons?!” Harry shouts at Castiel, “I’ll have you know… This is an exact image of a house I visited… there were several ghosts… you … you...”

“Harry, enough,” Eleanor interjects, stopping the man in his tracks. “If you would like to discuss this in a calm manner after class, that will be acceptable. But this outburst is not acceptable. Please apologize to Mr. Novak.”

“Sorry,” he grunts, obviously not meaning it.

“My feelings are not hurt Harry, I hope I didn’t hurt yours. I understand that this image is important to you and I would enjoy hearing your story at another time.” Castiel calmly replies to the man, hoping to smooth his ruffled feathers. “We are on a strict time limit, though, so let's move on.”

“As you all know,” began Marv, or Metatron as he always insists being called, “God has charged me with translating the Angel Tablet from Enochian to English because the King of Hell is trying to let Lucifer out of his cage and start the apocalypse here on Earth. Now, none of you can read any of the Enochian that I have here. I’ve told you many times that you cannot look directly at the Angels when they visit me…..”

“Marv… Metatron. Please, now is not the time for your explanation of Angles.” Eleanor cut the man off before he got too deep in his rant.

Castiel stares at him as he moves over in front of Garth, having no idea how to respond to this man.

Garth and Mr. Fizzles proudly show off the very childlike stick figures of dogs and cats that he had drawn on his cover.

“Mr. Fizzles loves puppies, but I like kittens,” Garth whispers to Castiel.

Smiling at the sweet man, Castiel takes a close look at the adorable little drawings. “I like them both,” he whispers back to Garth.

“That’s a very colorful cover, Joshua.” Castiel addresses the kindly old man. Joshua had drawn a rainbow in diagonal lines covering the whole cover.

Joshua smiles at him, “Colors are beautiful and this book had none. As Georgia O’Keeffe once said, 'I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way – things I had no words for.' You, as an artist, of course, understand this.”

Castiel really likes this man. He seems to have a pure soul.

Dean, not looking at the artist, holds his book up, the cover facing Castiel. A few people in the room start laughing.

“It’s just got your stupid name in stupid black pen in the stupid corner,” scoffs Ruby.

“I did offer him some of these pretty jewels, but he wouldn't even look at me,” Aimee explains as she leans closer to Dean. She tries to rub her breast against his arm, which causes him to lean away from her.

“Aimee, please don’t touch him. You know he doesn’t like touch,” Eleanor scolds from across the room.

Aimee huffs and readjusts in her chair.

“If he only wanted to write his name, that’s fine. I did ask you to do what you wanted, not what others wanted,” Castiel reasons before anyone else chimes in or makes fun of the man.

“Perhaps he is saving space to decorate later, or maybe he’s saving his artistic talent for the inside pages.” He winks at Dean giving him what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

The corners of Dean’s mouth almost twitch into a smile.

Aimee glares at Castiel and pouts, continuing to poke out her chest toward Dean.  He stares at it with laser focus until Castiel clears his throat.

“Aimee,” Castiel glares right back at the woman. “Please show the class your book cover.”

Thankfully, he’s able to say this in a much more detached tone than he felt at the moment. He feels anger toward this woman. He didn’t want to cause problems but he can’t stand them picking on Dean that way.

‘ _Wait, what is that about?_ ’ He questions himself, ‘ _Get a grip, Cas_.’

Aimee proudly shows Castiel her journal. She had drawn a big heart, covering it with red glitter, adding little jewels all around the outline. Her name was written in pink glitter, centered in the heart.

“Very nice, Aimee. Very... glittery.” Castiel observes desperate not to get glitter on himself. As far as he’s concerned that shit can go straight back to fairy hell.

“Okay! Next...’” Castiel claps his hands and digs into the large box he brought with him.

“I’ve brought each of you a case to keep all your own individual supplies.” He grins as he begins to pass out the boxes, explaining the contents.

“You can open the cases, but please don’t pull everything out quite yet. I will go over everything as soon as each person has their kit.”

Dean has a hard time focusing on the words the artist was saying because he is completely captivated by his voice, and that smile, and… ‘ _Did he wink at me?_ ’  Dean watches the movements of the artist as he makes his way around the room, listening to the tone and rhythm of that deep steady voice. He blinks and looks up, right into the bluest eyes he's ever seen. ‘ _When did he get so close?_ ’ Motionless, Dean stares into the man’s eyes.

“Dean?” Castiel’s brow furrowed, squinting and tilting his head at the man. “Are you still with me, Dean?” he asks.

Dean blinks a few times and his eyes grow wide, he clears his throat and nods, mouth agape. He notices the box in the man's hand and stares at it. ‘ _Stop staring, stupid. No one likes it when you stare at them. But, God, his eyes are so blue, how are they even real?_ ’

“Dean, this is for you. It’s yours. A gift from me, um, for art class, that is.” Castiel says, almost stuttering. Giving a lopsided smile, he places the case on the table in front of Dean.

As Dean reaches for the case and his hand grazes Castiel’s. Dean feels a tingle of electricity but doesn’t flinch from the touch. He scoots the case closer to himself, placing his large hand splayed out on top of the box in a show of protectiveness.

Castiel gives Aimee her case and she looks at her name then over at Dean’s name on his case. She moves her hand across his arm in an attempt to touch his art case, noticing the differences.

Dean, still focused only on Castiel, doesn’t see her reaching toward him.  When he feels her arm touch him he flinches so hard that his chair tips back and he topples over, careening to the floor.

The room erupts into laughter.

“Shit!” Castiel calls out. “Dean! Oh my God, are you okay?” He asks as he runs around the table kneeling next to the fallen man. The orderly also reaches him at the same moment, but Castiel ignores the orderly, tending to Dean himself.

Rubbing his elbow, Dean knows it’s going to be bruised and probably his knee, too, where it hit the underside of the table as he fell.  However, what hurts most is the fact that Castiel just watched him fall on his ass like an idiot.

The orderly grabs Dean under the arms in order to lift him off the ground. Dean twists and kicks as he fights against the touch, growling at him throughout the process.

Castiel gives Dean a concerned look but thinks that he may have growled at the orderly as well over the way he had unceremoniously hauled up the possibly injured man.

Once Eleanor deems Dean fit to continue and the class is once again settled, Castiel returns to the task of introducing the contents of the art cases.

Even old Rufus is happy with all the pens and pencils, producing a small smile as he looks over each item.

Castiel describes each item and gives examples of how to use each type of writing and drawing utensil in the case by making a drawing on a flipchart in front of the class. He hadn’t planned what he was going to draw for ‘show-and-tell’ and figures he’ll wing it and let his hand do the work while he explains the different ways to hold the pens and pencils, pointing out differences in pressure to the paper and so on. He’s been sketching on the spot like this for years and has no problem letting the art happen without focused thought. He goes over each basic use he can think of and shows how to mix the different mediums in one drawing, using his fingertips to shade and the eraser to highlight.

Noticing how quiet the class has become, Castiel feels a bubble of pride in his ability to hold their attention so well. Then he notices how they are staring wide-eyed at the drawing and he sees how Dean is now sitting under his table facing the back of the room with his head in his hands. The only sound is a low mumble from the man on the floor.

“Um …,” Eleanor interrupts Castiel, “Is that what you _intended_ to draw for the class?” She asks.

Castiel tilts his head squinting at the woman, and is about to ask her meaning when he actually looks at what he drew.

“Oh.. um… hmmm…” His lips draw into a tight line, as he gives a confused and worried look at Eleanor.

He studies his own drawing, _‘Did I really just draw an image of myself comforting Dean?_ ’ It’s very clear that that’s exactly what he did. In the image, he is cradling Dean’s head against his own shoulder. His hand rests on Dean’s head in a protective and soothing grasp, as the Castiel in the picture looks into the distance passed Dean. ‘ _Why the hell did I draw that?_ ’

“It’s beautiful.” Mr. Fizzles says as Garth sniffles and wipes his eyes.

The comments begin to come from all around the room.

“Is that…”

“Oh my God it is!”

“Did you really draw….”

“It's so perfect!”

“No…” came a low grunting sound from the back of the room. “...no, no no no…”

All eyes turn to Dean, who is sitting under the table. They watch as he begins hitting his head with the heels of his hands as he rocks.

“No no no no…,” he repeats over and over. He is mumbling, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the others.

This is the first time Castiel ever hears him speak, and he does not like what he’s hearing. The noises he is making are similar to a wounded animal or a child in torment.

Castiel’s mind races, ' _Is Dean hurt? Did he hurt himself? Maybe Aimee touched him again? Did I say something to upset him? Was it the comments of the others? Oh, shit, was it my drawing?_ ’ … About a thousand other questions and speculations race through his mind in seconds. He glances at Eleanor, who is already on the move.

Eleanor asks the two orderlies to quietly move the others to another room as she and Castiel go to check on Dean. She knows how quickly things can escalate.

“Dean,” Eleanor quietly speaks, approaching him cautiously, “Dean, dear, can you look at me?”

“No, no no, no…,” he murmurs as he continues hitting himself with each word.

“Dean, dear. Please stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” She isn’t having any effect on him.

He keeps up the pattern in perfect time repeating his mantra and banging his head with his hands as he rocks back and forth.

Eleanor and Castiel share a look. Dean isn’t escalating but he hasn’t acknowledged them either. Castiel silently motions to Eleanor requesting that she allow him to try. She nods in agreement.

“Dean,” he says in a clear, firm tone.

Dean pauses momentarily, but soon begins his rhythm again, this time without words. Now only rocking but continuing to hit himself, tears begin to drip down his face.

“Dean, please look at me.” Castiel requests gently, placing a hand on the back of the chair and kneeling to be on Dean’s level. “Dean, please,” he softly repeats.

Dean stops and slowly looks up. He looks a mess, face red and tear stained, eyes puffy and hair sticking up in all directions.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel smiles and feels his heart skip a beat when the man looks into his eyes. ‘ _How can anyone be this covered in snot and still this adorable?... Cas! No. Stop._ ’ He berates himself. ‘ _What is wrong with you?_ ’

Dean is still crying, but stopped hitting himself, and is holding something in each fist.

“May I see what you have there?” Castiel asks, motioning to the objects grasped so tightly in the man's fists. Cas could see how white his fingers were becoming at the strain of holding so tightly, and if the man’s fingernails weren’t clipped so short, he’s sure his palms would be bleeding.

Dean shakes his head and puts his hands in his lap, looking between Castiel and Eleanor in horror.

“You’re not in any trouble, dear.” Eleanor tries to reassure him as she too sits on the floor.

Dean looks from her to Castiel, eyes pleading as tears still flow freely. He slowly brings both hands up and opens them, palms up. In each hand is half of a broken blue pencil.

“Oh, Dean.” Castiel’s voice cracking as the distraught emotion of the man in front of him completely shatters his heart. “Dean, it’s okay.” Castiel carefully takes the pieces of pencil and opens his own arms,  a gesture offering the man a hug. “It’s really alright, Dean, it’s just a pencil.”

Dean leans toward the artist, but hesitates, looking at the broken pencil now in Castiel’s hand. He inhales shakily between sobs and then falls into the man’s open arms, crying on his shoulder as the man holds him and rubs his back.

Eleanor has never seen Dean react this way before. His usual M.O. is to escalate to a point of self-harm or to fight whoever’s within reach until he’s sedated and placed, well restrained, in the infirmary. In the year he’s been at the Center, she’s never witnessed him cry like this, nor had he ever been calmed without medication and restraints. She watches as Castiel hums and rocks while he holds the distressed man.

The three of them stay there on the floor for quite a while, until Dean quiets and falls asleep. She secures a pillow and blanket so as not to disturb the man as he sleeps. Once they settle him on the pillow, they step away. Eleanor wants to discuss everything that occurred during the class, hoping that once Dean wakes, he will be able to help them understand what happened with the pencil and why it upset him so much.

Even after his short nap, Dean is in no shape to talk to the counselor or the artist.

Eleanor advises Castiel that she will call him when she has news about what took place.

Castiel doesn’t hear from Eleanor the following week,  so he makes the decision to go to the Center on his regularly scheduled class day and hopefully have time to talk with her before class and find out what progress was made with Dean.

One thing he does do during the week in between is to purchase a new set of colored pencils for the man. He wants to give him a fresh start without broken pencils. Castiel feels an urgent need to fix what he can for Dean and to help the man heal his broken soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the art in this chapter goes to the artist - Sorry, but I don't know who that is I found the sketch line. If you know the artist I'll be glad to tag them. :)


	7. Butter Knives Will Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean feels a strong urge to self-harm.  
> Will Castiel be able to gain his trust?

Dean lays in bed with his face buried in his pillow, his hand thumbing the edge of his journal. He had tried to do some sort of drawing in the book, but everytime he looked at the art case, which he had carefully placed in his top drawer out of sight, he felt like he was going to cry or hit something. He felt the urge to cut, but since last week his ‘guardian orderly’ had been back on duty making it impossible to abscond with anything that would make a good tool. He knew he was going to try again this morning at breakfast though.

Abruptly flinging his door open, the orderly announces that it’s time to go to the dining hall. Dean, ready to put his plan into action, complies without any hesitation. The orderly eyes him questioningly, wary of how obedient the man appears this morning.

They go through the line together, Dean collects his plastic tray, plastic dishes and plastic utensils.

‘ _They think they’re so smart..._ ’ his mind whirls with thoughts and plans.

As they walk to an empty table, he purposefully drops his spoon and kicks it in the path of another patient walking toward him. The man steps on the spoon and it surprises him enough that he jerks his tray to look down. The tray hits the head of the woman sitting at the table directly beside him.

‘ _Oh lord, that’s Ruby_.’ Dean realizes with a touch of excitement that his plan is playing out so perfectly. Ruby, of course, is angered by being hit in the head and jumps to action. She lunges at the poor guy who is unlucky enough to become caught in Dean’s web. The nearby orderlies, including Dean’s ‘bodyguard’, are quick to act in trying to diffuse the situation before it escalates.

Once no one is watching him, Dean pockets a butter knife. ‘ _Easily sharpened_ ’ he acknowledges and retrieves a new spoon then sits at a table close by.

He eats his breakfast and watches as Ruby is hauled out of the room.

Castiel arrives at the Center early, wanting to catch Eleanor before class time. When he finds her, she happens to be dealing with the aftermath of Ruby’s fight at breakfast. Ruby would not be joining class today.  By the time the crisis is successfully handled, the group is beginning to filter into the classroom. ‘S _o much for talking before class_.’

Castiel greets his students. A little worried but still excited to actually begin a real class.

Rufus wheels in and Dean saunters in right behind him. Castiel watches Dean as he takes his seat, noticing how he sits his case on the table but seems to be ignoring the object, almost as if touching or looking at it is painful. Other than the odd way he was treating the case, Dean seems calm.

Castiel didn’t want to make a big deal of giving the man a new set of pencils. He has already cleared his plan with Eleanor - to wait until the end of class to ask Dean to stay behind.

With Ruby’s absence, Eleanor takes the moment to reinforce how fighting keeps us from enjoying the special things such as attending art class.

“Hello class.” He gains their attention. “Last week we were able to share the decorative covers of our journals but we didn’t make it to the second part of the assignment.” He looks around the room as he speaks.

“If you remember, I asked each of you to write or draw something on the inside of your journal.”  This brings out sounds of recollection. “I want to start on the front row again but let’s begin on the opposite side today.”

Ed had written his name on the first page then wrote two pages about a time he had been abducted and forced to slow dance with an alien.

Rufus had drawn filigree all around his name.

Ash had written his name several times around more marijuana leaves. Castiel chucked, this guy had a one track mind.

Aimee wrote her name in curly letters and had little hearts and butterflies, wait, no those are winged dicks…. ‘ _Okay then_.’ he thought and gave the woman a worried look.

Dean opened his journal to the inside front cover where he had written:

**PROPERTY**

**OF**

**DEAN WINCHESTER**

No flourishments or fancy lettering, just neat capital letters. Castiel bit his lip as he looked from the book to Dean, who was looking down. He wanted to say something but needs to get on with teaching and not disrupt the class so early.

Castiel was pleased with the drawing that Joshua made, it was a rendition of the Creation of Adam by Michelangelo. Joshua added his name in script along Adam’s arm.

Garth had written both his and Mr. Fizzles names on the inside cover and drawn a likeness of Mr. Fizzles.

Marv drew a large cross and arched above it was METATRON, and below it was SCRIBE OF GOD.

Harry wrote a list of ghost hunting rules and signed the bottom of the page.

After seeing everyones work, Castiel focuses himself on the task of teaching. Today's lesson will focus on some basic sketching and shading.  

Once everyone begins working on practicing the examples he’d shown, Castiel takes his personal journal to Dean’s table. Laying his journal on the table, he opens it to the front inside cover and places it next to Dean’s book which is also opened to the first page. The similarity is uncanny.  

Dean looks from his book to Castiel's and back a few times before looking up to meet the man's eyes. The artist had a look on his face that Dean couldn’t read.

“May I please speak with you after class, Dean?” The artist asks.

Dean hesitates, staring wide-eyed at the artist. His first thought goes straight to the knife in his shoe.

‘ _Fuck, is he gonna turn me in?_ ’ His mind races with what else he may have done to already be in trouble with this guy. Then like a bullet train switching tracks, he immediately begins to assume that the artist must be just like the others and wants to fuck him or get a free blow job. ‘ _I don’t wanna fuck! I wanna fuckin’ cut! I'm not just a damn hole!_ ’ Dean’s mind is battling too many thoughts at once. He knows that his ‘guardian orderly’ will be taking a toilet and smoke break immediately after this class. He’d planned on using that time to his advantage, not to bend over for some new guy. Gulping audibly, he stares at the man standing in front of him. He wants to run, but the exit is blocked by that huge orderly.

“There’s no problem,” Castiel says trying to keep the man calm. “I just want to help with the situation that happened during last class.” Hoping not to upset the fragile man by bringing up the incident. “It will only take a few minutes. Unless you need to be elsewhere.” Starting to doubt himself as the man continues to stare blankly at him.

Dean clears his throat. He didn’t want to stay because the sharpened butter knife was in his shoe and was calling out to him, but his head started nodding without his permission. He agreed to stay. ‘ _What the hell? Wrong answer!_ ’ He berates himself but he kept nodding at the man.

“Thank you, Dean. I think you’ll be pleased.” Castiel smiles a big toothy smile then turns his focus back to the class.

Not wanting to dwell on the impending discipline he will most likely receive after class, he focuses on the sound of Castiel’s voice, it’s so calming. ‘ _Could it be possible that the guy will just want me to suck him off and not hurt or report me?_ ’ He seems to be different from the orderlies who like to punch Dean. Last time the artist was here he was calm and kind to everyone in the group. He doodles on the open page of his journal as he listens, trying to pay attention to the actual words, but his mind drifts and the words are lost.  He looks at his sketch, ‘ _Okay, bird it is then_.’ He continues to sketch while Castiel talks.

Castiel had already spoken to the orderly about waiting in the hall while he took a few extra minutes to speak to Dean without interruption. He was excited about giving him the new pencils. He could tell by the way the man was treating his current set, that having had them broken was traumatic. Afterall, Dean hadn’t even used his color pencils during class, just a few markers.

Dean neatly packs away his supplies in his case, only keeping out a pen to work on his current drawing. Staying in his seat after class was over, unsure of why the artist has asked him to stay, and wishing he hadn’t agreed. He fidgets his foot, feeling the side of the knife along the edge of his foot. If he didn’t have to stay here he could be in a shower stall by now. He pictures himself there. Leaning against the corner of the stall, his shirt off, knife pressing against his skin. All he wants to feel right now is the warmth of the blood and the sting of the air hitting a fresh cut. Wrapping his arms across his chest he presses the nearly healed bruise on his ribs, taking in a deep breath, closing his eyes, he invisions the knife pressing against his skin instead of his fingers. All his pain lately has been caused by other people, he didn’t even have time to process his last attempt before the orderlies jumped him. ‘ _Fuck, I shoulda just left_ …’

Castiel paused as he turns from shutting the door, watching Dean for a moment. Taking the new pack of pencils from his messenger bag, he takes a cleansing breath and walks back to Dean’s table. Dean still has his eyes closed and is taking slow regulated breaths. Castiel looks at the open page of the journal on the table. There on the page is a sketch of a Blue Jay.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean opens his eyes and inhales sharply, sitting up a little straighter and dropping his hands to his sides. ‘W _hat’s it gonna be? Discipline, a beating, hard fuck, blow job. God, I can’t deal with restraints today._ ’ His heart beats faster as the man gets closer. ‘ _I shoulda run when I had the chance._ ’

“That’s a beautiful Blue Jay,” smiling at Dean as he takes a seat next to him. “Is this okay, may I sit with you?” Dean nods as the man sits beside him. “You can call me Castiel, or Cas for short, if you want. And you’re okay with me calling you Dean, is that right?” He wants an answer from the man, but Dean just nods again looking at the bird he drew and frowning, confused.

“What’s wrong, is there a problem with your drawing?” Cas asks. “I like it. It’s quite artistic.”

Dean gave him a sideways glance, not believing the man. The bird was colored all wrong, he had gotten out of the lines then scratched blue across the drawing in anger, then he tried to make it look like water, but he thought it looked stupid.  He furrowed his brow and shook his head at the man.

“You still don’t want to talk, do you?” he asked. Dean looks down at his hands. “Well, that’s okay for now.” he smiles “You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t mind listening to me talk.”

The corners of Dean’s mouth curl up _almost_ into a smile as he thinks about how nice the man’s voice is and how good it makes him feel inside.

“Well, I’ll take that as your approval.” Cas winks at him. Dean shyly looks up at the man through his lashes. Cas takes a breath and continues.

“O-kay,” He swallows, having a hard time controlling his reactions when Dean looks at him like that.

“I brought you something today. I wanted to make sure that your art case was complete.” He places the new box of colored pencils on the table in front of Dean.

Staring wide eyed, Dean isn’t sure how to respond. Last week he’d not been paying attention and Aimee had started stealing his pencils. He had been so enthralled listening to the sound of the artist’s voice that he didn’t catch her at first. When he noticed her taking his things, he grabbed them back from her and she fought him over the sky blue pencil. She tried to jerk it from him and broke the pencil then threw the pieces at him. He wasn’t sure exactly what happened next or how long after that happened that Eleanor and Castiel were sitting on the floor next to him.

“Are you with me, Dean?” Cas asks, waiting on a response. Dean stares into the blue eyes now looking back at him, and nods.

Cas smiles and motions for him to open his case.

“Lets go ahead and take that old broken set of pencils out of there and replace it with a fresh new set with all the pencils in tact. Shall we?” He asks. Trying to put himself in the man’s place he recalls a story that was similar.

“I remember, back when I was a kid, one of my markers was chewed by a neighbors dog. It was my favorite green pen, too.”

Castiel helps Dean gather all the colored pencils from the case as he talks.

“The marker set never was the same after losing that one in particular. My folks weren’t able to buy me any replacement markers, so it was a long time before I was able to purchase a new set myself.”

He fudged the truth slightly, not wanting to bring up the fact that the markers were purchased by his parents on the same day they were killed, or that his uncle had no respect for art and hated when he spent any time drawing or coloring.

“Now that we’ve gotten all those old pencils out of the way, let’s put these new ones in their place.” Cas smiles.

Dean gives him a concerned look and wants to ask him why he’s being nice and isn’t mad at him about the pencil he let someone steal and, consequently, break. Growing up, his caretakers would have punished him for breaking things or for not paying attention and causing trouble. Dean didn’t even realize that he was holding his breath until he feels his heart rate go up and goes to panic mode.

“Dean, Dean, are you okay?” Cas is startled by the man’s sudden reaction.

“Dean, just breathe slowly. Breathe with me.” He tries to stay calm and in turn calm the man sitting next to him. Cas takes slow deep breaths, leading the frightened man by counting slowly as he inhales, holds, then exhales. Cas gently brings Dean’s hand up to his own diaphragm to show Dean how it feels as he breathes.

Dean doesn’t seem to have instantly noticed that Cas had grasped his hand or that Cas was still holding it against his own body. But his breathing begins to match the rhythm of Cas’s own.

“Dean, please look at me.” He pleads, trying to stop the panic attack. He remembered how his own father had been able to soothe any situation by staying calm and using a low, gentle voice.

Dean doesn’t even realize he’s gripping his seat so tight that his fingers are turning white. He glances at Cas but looks instantly away, darting his eyes about the room, searching for an escape. He wants to run, to hide, and to fucking use that knife that’s pressing against his foot. But he’s trapped. So badly wanting to run away, but also needing to be near this man, enraptured by his voice.  

“Please... Dean, please look at me.” Cas repeats. He decides he is going to take a chance and lightly touches Dean’s hand that is gripping the chair so tightly.

Dean jerks his focus to his hand where it had been touched, then darts his eyes directly at Castiel’s. The look in his eyes is akin to a frightened animal. Cas has never seen a person with so much emotion in their eyes. It’s almost as if he can see the man’s very soul. He feels like he’s drowning.

Finally, Dean’s irises begin to reduce to a more normal diameter and Castiel can once again see the many facets of green, and the gold and brown flecks, the depth and colors are like looking up into the canopy in a dense forest.  

Cas blinks and tries to find his own voice again. “Oh, Dean. Please, please let me in.” He says in a whisper, not sure if he’d actually spoken the words, hoping it was only a thought. Then he notices the tears in the man’s eyes.

Dean looks away and begins scrawling in his journal on a page with other markings.

Castiel looks at what the man wrote in his journal. “Oh, god. Dean.” His voice is shaky and much smaller than he liked.

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

Tears threaten to fall again and Dean blinks them away. He has never shown anyone anything he ever drew, well maybe not noone, he did show two people, a long time ago. He recalls the drawing of the horse he’d done that hung on the refrigerator in the kitchen at the Ranch. All of a sudden he really misses Bobby. He misses the Ranch. He’s so tired. Tired of everything. Why couldn’t they have just left him to rot in jail or thrown him back out on the street? Why does everyone want him to be something he’s not?  He looks at his arms and his fingers graze over the scars.

Cas wants so badly to help this man.

“I’m sure you’ve experienced bad things in your life, but Dean, when I look into your eyes, I don’t see a bad person. What I see is pain and a longing.”  Cas glances at the door to see the orderly watching through the glass. “Dean, please look at me.”

Dean looks up out of the corner of his tear filled eyes.

‘ _God, this man is gorgeous._ ’ The thought flashes through Cas’s mind. ‘ _Dammit Cas! Not the time or place_ ’ he repremands himself.

“I want you to feel like you can talk to me, hopefully trust me in time. I want to be a friend to you if you’ll let me.” He looks into the man’s eyes pleading, wanting to prove his sincerity.

Dean raises his face to look more fully at Cas, taking in every line and curve of his face, looking into the deep pools of blue, such captivating eyes. Dean’s tears flow freely. He wants to befriend this man, he wants to trust this man. If only his voice would work. If only he wasn’t so broken. It’s been so long since anyone saw him as a person. He hasn’t been safe since the Ranch, since Bobby. Every day has been about survival. There hasn’t been one person he could trust after Charlie, and even that ended badly. Dean looks toward the door at the orderly who is watching them through the glass, knowing that the man will be pissed that he has been made to wait as if Dean was something important.

“I’ve spoken with Ms. Visyak and that grizzly man can just do his job and stand in the hall until we’re finished; your counselor and doctor agree with my ideas that art can be a very special therapy tool.” Cas touches his fingers tenderly along the man’s art case. “Out of the entire class, no matter how skilled they are, Dean, you stand out to me, you’re special.” He points to the drawing of the Blue Jay. “Your soul is as beautiful as a bird flying free.”

Castiel pauses, watching Dean as his arms wrap around his chest, and he can see that the man is pressing into his side. Taking a big chance, he reaches over and touches the hand that is pressing into the rib cage.

Dean looks up at Castiel, Cas sees that the man thought he was going to be scolded. “Eleanor mentioned that you’d been injured recently.” Cas looks at Dean’s side “Is that where it happened?”

Dean looks to his sore side then back to Cas, brow furrowed, head tilted and a question in his eyes. ‘S _hit, I’m not supposed to do that, they told me to stop pressing on it cuz it aint gonna heal right._ ’ Forcing himself to stop pressing on his bruised side, his fingers move to touch the yellowing bruise around his eye. Wanting to let the man know that they beaten him. He wants to talk to Cas, no one has been this patient with him and he appreciates it. He doesn’t want to treat this man the way he treats the scary head nurse or the linebacker orderly. He clears his throat and nods his head, trying to force his voice, but the words don’t come.

“Yeah, you had quite the shiner last week. Did that happen at the same time as your ribs?” Cas thinks they’re progressing, even if Dean isn't talking, he is connecting with him and they are communicating, in a way.

Nodding his head Dean wipes away the tears from his face.

“Would you like to do another drawing, with me?” Cas lowers his head so he an look at the man’s face.

“Let me grab my journal.” He stands to retrieve his messenger bag from the front table. ”I’ve been sketching and writing in this one since I was twelve.” He lovingly runs his hand over the cover of his book. “Here, look at this…”

The two men sit and look at some of Cas’s very early drawings. Soon, Dean picks up a pencil and begins drawing in his own book. They sit there for another hour, silently drawing in their own journals. Neither wanting to end this time together.  Only packing up their tools when Eleanor comes into the room to let them know that Dean was late for lunch and that another group needs to use the classroom.

Regrettably, Cas bids farewell to Dean, making sure that he understands that next week they will continue their session. Before Dean leaves with the orderly, Cas looks down at the man’s tattered shoes.

“Dean, would you like to leave something with me so that Grizzly out there doesn’t find it?”

Dean’s shocked that this man knows what he had secreted away in his shoe and isn’t reprimanding him. Looking around, he kneels down and removes the knife from his shoe and discreetly hands it to Cas.

“Thank you for trusting me, Dean. I promise that this will not go any further than me.” Cas slips the object into his pocket so that no one else sees it.

Dean stares into the artist’s eyes. He believes him. Giving a nod he turns and walks out to meet the orderly and goes for his delayed meal.

Castiel breathes out a sigh of relief and leans against the table, his face in his hands. That had been the most intense ordeal he can remember having in years. He feels exhausted, but absolutely thrilled at the outcome of the mornings events. He has lots to contemplate on his drive home.  

\+   + +

Dean sits with the orderly and eats his meatloaf and macaroni.

‘ _How long had Castiel known about the knife? Would he really keep the secret? Why was he being so nice?_ ’ These are questions he will ponder over the next week as he waits to see if there’s any backlash from the mornings events.

After lunch, Dean spends some time in the dayroom watching out from his favorite window seat. He no longer has the burning urge to cut.

That’s new.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art included in this chapter was drawn by me.


	8. Doubt Seeps In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Downing his second beer, Castiel grabs his sketchbook from his messenger bag.  
> "Fuck this. Fuck thinking. Fuck aduling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The symbol # # # shows the beginning and end of a memory/flashback.  
> 'Italics show thought'

For the first time in weeks, the pool is not occupied by a horde of models, photographers, and groupies. Castiel can enjoy his poolside patio in peace. Sipping on a beer as he watches the sunset, he thinks over the past few weeks.  

‘ _What have I gotten myself into?_ ’ This thing with the Center may be more than he had anticipated. He’s not qualified for therapy. He just wants to teach some art classes, maybe help some people along the way.

Sure, he’s had years of training and practice at his chosen craft, even taught classes at varying levels and to all age groups but he’s never had any training in therapy of any kind.

Maybe he had been able to dissuade Ruby and Aimee from fighting, he’d been able to advise others against violence before.

What really plays on his mind is the knife that Dean had hidden in his shoe.

‘ _What if I hadn’t noticed how he was walking? He could have used that knife at any time against any one of the people in that room_.’ Castiel had only guessed that the man had something in his shoe, unsure of what it was. He could tell by the man’s body language that he was trying to hide something.

‘ _I could have pissed him off, shit, he could have attacked me. The orderly wasn’t in the room for a good hour_.’  Opening another beer, he thinks about that.

“We were alone for over an hour and he had a weapon the whole time, but he never even tried to leave or move away from me. I have no control over him… I only asked him to stay. Oh, god, did I force him? Does he think I hold power over him?”

Castiel leans his head back against the chaise lounge looking up at the colorful sky.

“Shit.”

Downing his second beer, Castiel grabs his sketchbook from his messenger bag. “Fuck this. Fuck thinking. Fuck adulting.”

He decides to release some tension by sketching. Letting his mind clear, focusing on the pencil to paper has always been his favorite way to escape.

Well, that or sex. Sex is definitely a great way to escape real life. ‘ _Yep, Sex... and vodka_.’ he grins as his mind drifts to his latest encounter. ‘ _Damn, that guy was hot and tight._ ’ His grin faded. ‘ _And a total buzzkill the next morning_.’  

His art, whether it’s drawing or painting or refurbishing some rubbish furniture, has never left him hungover like booze does nor has it ever left him with an empty pang of guilt. No. Art has always been a safe place for him to retreat.

Castiel continues to scratch his pencil over the surface of the paper, marking and shading, working the graphite with his fingers to smear the tone just right. Without thinking as he allows the artwork to take on a life of its own.

The exterior lights automatically turn on around the patio. Castiel didn’t notice the change even though he thoughtlessly adjusts his position to take advantage of the lighting. He is in his element. His mind clear, no pressure to accomplish a task, the ease of releasing all inhibition and allowing his inner self to flow through the tip of his pencil.

“Ooh - OO - Oh! Sweet Child of mine!” Gabriel sang loudly and off-key, causing Castiel to nearly jump out of his skin.

“What the hell, Gabe?” Castiel complains to the obnoxious little man.

“Hey, you were humming so I figured I’d help you out with the words.”

Castiel frowned up at his manager-slash-friend. “I was not humming, I was drawing.” he squints at the man, “Was I humming?”

“Man, you’ve been humming and scratching and rubbing on that paper for a while now. I saw you out here and thought I’d come keep you company, but when I called your name you didn’t even hear me.” Castiel looks at him in surprise, Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows in his ridiculously suggestive way.

“... Aaannnd judging by your sketch there, you’re thinking of someone special.”

Castiel takes in what he’s drawn. “Shit,” he grumbles as he looks at the rather provocative image he’s been working on.

“It’s…  I was, I wasn’t… It - It’s nothing, Gabe. Just a drawing.” he angrily slaps his sketchpad closed.

“Man, I know you. You were in your ‘zone’ and when you’re all zoned out like that… Is he your latest conquest? Your Muse? Please tell me you’re hittin’ that ass.” Gabriel leans closer trying to peek at the drawing. “He looks pretty hot to me.”

“No, Gabriel. I am not ‘hittin’ that ass’” Castiel growls “Mind your own fuckin business for once why don’t you?”

“Jesus, Cassie! I was just teasing you. What’s got you so bothered? Awe, did that hottie reject the Great and Wonderful Castiel?” He teases.

“Fuck you.” Castiel snaps as he gathers his bag and supplies trying not to drop anything as he storms off toward the pool house, slamming the door behind him.

“Yeah? well… Fuck you, too!” Gabriel yells a bit delayed, shocked by Castiel's reaction. “What the hell?”

Gabriel hasn’t seen Castiel react so childishly in a very long time. Not since the man was, what, seventeen?

# # #

Castiel had gained his emancipation at seventeen and had stripped his Uncle Michael of his guardianship and power over Castiel’s trust fund.  

Michael had come to Gabriel’s apartment, where Castiel had been living during the court case. Michael was never one to lose gracefully and Castiel was still practically a child. The shouting match between the two was ugly and many hurtful words were said.

When Michael finally reached Castiel’s last nerve and mentioned the fact that his mother was pregnant out of wedlock and his father was a disgrace, Castiel hit the roof, screaming at Michael until he hauled off and punched Castiel square in the jaw.

At that point, Gabriel called the police and had Michael forcibly removed. Michael had never hit him before.

Castiel proceeded to obtain a restraining order and had Michael blocked from all of his future earnings.

The two men have not spoken since that day.

The next week, Naomi, Castiel's old boss, and Michael’s former event planner, hosted an exhibit at which Castiel’s artwork was the center of attention. Every piece had sold and Castiel was able to truly begin his adult life, standing on his own two feet.

# # #

Gabriel stared at the pool house doors for a moment before deciding to confront Castiel and get to the bottom of this issue before the man dissolved into one of his ‘moods’.

Gabriel opened the door and announced. “Don’t throw anything and you better be dressed, ‘cuz I’m coming in.”

Hearing a disgruntled huff, he looks around and spots Castiel sitting on the overstuffed patchwork couch against the far wall.

“Damn, I still think that thing is ugly.” he tries to lighten the mood. He’d been teasing Castiel about that since the day he hauled a broken, smelly old couch into the yard and began dismantling the thing. He’d taken it apart to the frame then fixed the broken bits, re-stuffed and covered it with that old quilt that he had sewn himself.

“Fuck you, Gabe.” Castiel retorted with significantly less anger in his voice, he rubbed his hand across the fabric of the quilted couch “You know this quilt is made from my parent’s old clothes. So you can just kiss my ass.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Gabe sticks out his tongue. “So, what’s got you moping here in the dark?”

Gabriel hears the man shuffle on the couch, reaching to turn on a lamp.

“I’m not moping.” Mumbles Castiel.

“Then what do you call throwing a tantrum then hiding here in the dark… and, shit… you’re crying?”

Castiel wipes his hand down his face.

“Damn, Cassie, what have you gotten yourself into?” Unsure if he needed to put on his manager hat or his friend hat, Gabriel walks over and sits across from his friend. That line between professional and personal was often blurred, he’d known the man since he was a kid.

“Shit, Gabe. I think I’m in over my head.” Castiel sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“Do I need to make us drinks for this confessional?” Gabriel smiled, then looking at the other man’s face, his smile faded, “No one’s pregnant, are they?”

“God, No!” Castiel responded in horror, holding up the bottle of vodka, motioning for Gabriel to grab himself a glass. “I’d be a lot worse off and a lot drunker if that was the case.”

“Oh, thank all the gods, old and new! I could not handle another scare like that!” Gabriel sighed as he poured himself and Castiel a fresh drink.

“If it’s not some knocked up model, then what has you all twisted in knots?”

Castiel looked at the glass in his hand, remembering the time he had a model accuse him of being the father of her unborn child. He was only eighteen at the time and could barely take care of himself. A paternity test proved he was not the father, but she still hounded him until the child was born. The baby was half African American, the real father found out and sued the woman for custody. It was a time Castiel would rather not think about.

“It’s this damn art class I took on. You know, at the mental health center across town.”

“Sooo… what… you found out that the freaks are even too freaky for you?”

“No. The group is…. exceptional, overall, they are eccentric and quite interesting characters. It’s a diverse group of personalities, I think it will end up being fun as long as the more easily aggravated are kept entertained.”

“But? I know there’s something or someone who has peeked your interest… oh, please tell me you haven’t slept with a nurse, or dear lord, one of the kooks.”

“Gabe! NO. I have not slept with any of the PATIENTS, OR ANYONE at the Center.”

“Then what the hell is your issue?”

Castiel opens his sketchbook to the page he was working on.

“Him.” He looks at the drawing and flips several pages, all containing drawings of the same man in different poses and different parts of his face and body.

“Umm… Cassie?”

“It’s not like that… At least I don’t think it is. God, Gabe, what kind of monster obsess over a person they just met? I don’t even know him. I didn’t even MEAN to draw these, I just sat down to sketch and all my sketches end up as him! What’s wrong with me? This man is my student, and he’s a patient at the Center. On top of that he’s nonverbal, Gabe, I… He…. Gabe, this man was so distraught over a broken pencil…. he….”  His hands go to his face, rubbing the tension building behind his eyes, trying to regain his composure as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Wow, Cassie. You’ve really got it bad.” Gabriel shakes his head. “So, what is the goal here? The art class or this man in particular?”

Castiel stares at Gabriel, hoping the answer would magically come to him, opening and closing his mouth a few times… brain not engaging, not sure what to say.

“I…” He starts. “The class…” He tries again. “I want to teach this class, to help these individuals find an outlet to... .to help him, um... them… to help them find a voice.” Grimacing at his slip “I do want to continue with the group but…”

“But… this man has you hooked. Am I wrong?” Gabriel watches his friend struggle.

“Dammit, you’re not wrong.” Castiel stares at the drawing of the man, closing his eyes, he makes a decision. “Tomorrow, I’m going to call Ms. Visyak. She may not even want me to come back after all the shit that’s happened the few times I’ve been with the group. She will give me the answer.”

‘ _And that way I won’t have to make the decision myself_.’

Now all he has to do is try not to completely obsess over his dilemma the rest of the night. Pouring another drink for himself and Gabriel, already warm from the vodka, Castiel rips his shirt off and flops back on the couch. “Might as well, this night is shot anyway, besides, I’m done playing the grown-up today.”

He encourages Gabe as well as giving himself the out to continue his spiral into self-doubt and drunkenness late into the night.

 

Castiel wakes to the sound of his phone ringing somewhere in the room. Rolling over, he falls to the floor.

“Omff, riiiight, couch.” He groans head spinning and stomach roiling.

“mmff, fuck... What?” Grunting into the phone when he finds it in his pants which are crumpled on the floor.

“Mr. Novak?”  A woman’s confused voice answers over the line.

Clearing his voice, trying to sound a bit more alive than he feels. “Yes, this is Cas. Who’s asking?” He breathes heavily into the phone as he lies back on the floor trying to make the room stop spinning. Looking over he sees the empty vodka bottle on the floor by the couch.

‘ _Shit, did Gabe stay and help me finish that bottle? Or, wait, there was still booze in the bottle when he left.. oh, god._ ’

“Mr. Novak, this is Eleanor Visyak. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Focusing his eyes on the clock on the wall, he sees that it’s almost two in the afternoon. So he wasn’t dreaming when he watched the sun come up.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Visyak, can I call you back in, say, twenty minutes?” Hoping that would give him time to puke, shower, then get some coffee and greasy food in him.

“Um, well, yes, I can make that work. I have a meeting at three- o’clock, but I think we can complete our discussion in the time allotted.” She answers hesitantly.

“Thanks, I apologize,” he clears his throat again and swallows deliberately, the spin of the room makes him dizzy and he is trying to stop his stomach retching. “I’ll call you back shortly. Gotta run.” He hangs up quickly, tossing his phone on the couch, barely making it to the bathroom in time. After showering, Castiel grabs a couple of hot pockets and some coffee. Settling himself beside the pool, he returns the call to the counselor.

“Hello, Ms. Visyak. I do apologize for earlier. I had actually planned to call you today. How may I help you?” Trying not to sound like he’s wolfing down cheap microwave pastries.

“I’m so glad you called back. I have a meeting with Mr. Roman and the Board of Directors for the Center this afternoon and I will be discussing the new art classes.”

Castiel’s stomach sinks again and he almost loses his first hot pocket. “Is there a problem? Should I be at this meeting?” Beginning to worry that his fear has come true and the classes are canceled before they even have a chance.

“Oh, no. Mr. Novak, there isn’t a problem, there is no need for you to attend the meeting.” Eleanor exclaims, sounding in better spirits than Castiel expects from someone who may be firing him. “In fact, I wanted to let you know that I will be discussing the proposal for a set of individual sessions in addition to your regular weekly class. I hope I’m not being presumptuous. It’s just that the way that you were able to handle certain patients at their most vulnerable and dangerous times impressed me and a few of the staff doctors.” She explains hoping to win the man over and not scare him away with extra work.

“Wow. I was actually expecting you to be calling me asking me not to return, due to the reactions and behaviors of the patients in the class. I mean, the fighting and …”

“Oh no, no, no.” She cuts him off. “Those small outbursts were completely manageable and the two women to whom you are referring are always causing some sort of ruckus.” Laughing as she tries to calm the man's worries. “The way you dealt with them was exemplary.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Mr. Novak...”

“Please, call me Castiel.”

“Right, Castiel. Now, we would like you to continue the weekly art classes with this particular group, they have actually responded well to you, and I could tell during the second class that they are all going to benefit.” Sighing as she puts into words her request. “What I’m proposing is something we have not attempted before with an adult at the Center. Have you heard of Drawing and Talking Therapy?”

“I know very little about any type of therapy, just that art is a calming and non-threatening activity.” He replies.

“I understand that you have no training in the field of psychology, Castiel. I’m not asking you to take on the role of therapist. I am asking for you to work one-to-one with one of our patients. Drawing and Talking Therapy is generally used with children who have been through trauma or other life-altering situations. Although this patient is an adult, there has been trauma that has caused extensive emotional damage in their life. When I watched you with this patient, I was amazed. No one has ever been able to achieve the sort of reaction you did.”

“Ms. Visyak, if this is one of the women who were fighting, I’m sure that other staff have been able to calm them and avoided further damage.” He really doesn’t want to spend extra time with an angry woman if he doesn’t have to, but he will if Eleanor thinks it will be beneficial.

“Actually, it is not one of the women.” (There is a muffled voice on her end and he hears her reply “I'll be right there.”) “I’m sorry, I need to go in the meeting now, they are about to begin.  Can you come by my office tomorrow morning, so we can discuss this in depth? I will have more solid information for you after this meeting as well.”

“Yes, what time do you need me to come by?” He asks trying not to sound nervous.

“Can you come by nine o’clock? And Castiel, perhaps you shouldn’t visit a liquor store this evening.” She adds with a jovial tone.

Chuckling, Castiel replies. “Yes, Ma’am, I can. And I will definitely take that under advisement.”

Contemplating the conversation he just had, Castiel releases the tension he was holding regarding the art classes. Smiling as he thinks about the eccentric characters who attend, he likes these people.

His stomach growls, prompting him to venture off to find some real food. Dinner and a good night’s sleep will surely give him the strength he needs to face whatever news the counselor has for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The artwork in this chapter is the property of the artists - unfortunately I do not know who they are - I found the art online... Thank you whoever you are! The art is amazing.


	9. Victor Sees the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What had happened that put Dean in the hospital during his stay at the Ranch? (Ch.5)  
> Charlie learns the truth about the accident but hides a truth of her own from Dean.  
> Victor, along with Bobby, learns another horrible truth about Dean's past.

Charlie woke when she heard the nurse come in to check on Dean.

“Can’t you let him sleep?” Charlie requested.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can, dear.”

Charlie moved to the chair by the bed while the nurse checked the boy’s vitals.

“This poor boy’s had a tough time of it, hasn’t he?” She offers, looking over the boy’s wounds, old and new. “The psychologist hasn’t been able to get much information from him, but only a few of these marks are from his accident. Do you know his history?”

Shaking her head, Charlie didn’t actually know much about her friend’s history, but she wouldn’t tell this nurse anything anyway, it’s not her place to tell anything Dean hasn’t shared with the staff here anyway.

Once the nurse is gone, Charlie makes a call.

“Hey, little sister,“ Bobby greeted her. “How’s that boy of ours?”

“He’s still sleeping,” She smiles over at the boy as he breathes calm and even in a peaceful slumber.

“Bobby, he finally admitted to what happened. It really was just a Rube Goldberg style accident.” settling in the uncomfortable recliner, she explained to Bobby what Dean had told her about how he ended up with a gash on his head and a broken leg.

“Dean had finished pulling the barbed wire on the section of fence where he and the other boys were working. He gathered his tools and the leftover bundle of wire to take back to the shed down by the corral.

     The sun was setting and the visibility in the shed was limited - oh, you need to check on the bulb in the shed - Anyway, he was in the process of putting away the wire cutters when he felt something move across his hand. I think I would have just died right then! So he sees a freakin’ copperhead! When he saw the snake, he jumped back. This is where the dominos started to fall…      Luckily when he jumped he scared the snake even more than it scared him. When he flung his hand and vaulted backward, the snake was tossed across the room. So Dean steps back and his feet tangle in the bundle of wire, tripping him and he fell out the door. He Scrambled to untangle himself and get away from the snake - which was most likely hiding from the crazy flailing kid. He lept toward the fence to climb over  - and run as far away from that snake as he could. The problem was that the wire was still hooked to the bottom of his pants. He climbed the fence and just as he started to jump it yanked his leg back, making him fall and his leg slammed across the top bar of the fence. Bobby, he said he heard the bone crack. ugh… Right at that moment, his pants ripped free and he crashed down head first. That's where what’s-his-name found him on the ground. His head must have hit the fence post and the rocky ground, busting it open and knocking him out.”

Taking a deep breath she continued.

“Oh, and Bobby, the social worker came by again but Dean was asleep and I asked him to come another time, like _when you’re here_.”

Bobby sucked in a breath “Wow, thanks, Charlie. How’d you manage to get that boy to tell you what happened? He wouldn’t tell me or the doc anything.”

“I told you. I’m his queen.” giggling she explained some of their role-playing adventures.

Blinking against the light and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Dean listened for a moment to the sound of Charlie’s voice.

“... no, he’s just embarrassed I think,”     

“... of course he’s not… I’m not sure how he’s going to handle that…”

He pretended to still be asleep and listened in on her conversation, trying to figure out who she was talking to and what or who she was talking about.

“... I haven’t told him yet…No… Yes… I received acceptance letters from three of my top choices. … I already do… yes, all the credits… Well, I could have but I wanted this last fun summer.” Glancing over she noticed that Dean is no longer asleep. “I wanted to let him at least get out of here… Okay… OKAY… Yes… Okay, talk to ya later, thanks. Bye.”

“I know you’re faking.” She stepped over to the bed to goose Dean in his most ticklish spot on his sides.

Jerking against the sudden poke to his ribs. “Ahhh! Oww! Hey, not fair!” He smiled up at his best friend.

She grinned back and jumped up on the bed, launching into another tickle attack.

“AAHHH! NOOO!” laughing as he tried to grab the girls hands to stop the attack.

“I’m injured, my Queen! Your knight has fallen in the battle against the evil Copper Headed Dragon and is undeserving of this punishment!”

“What is going on in here?!” Belts out the nurse standing right inside the door, still holding it open, looking very cross.

Both kids froze.

“You,” pointing to Charlie “off the bed. And You,” walking over to help adjust Dean into a sitting position. “You get to go home today if you don’t break your other leg up here roughhousing with your little friend like this, shame on you two.” The nurse sternly at both teens, causing them to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Yippee!” Charlie leaped off the bed. “You’re going home!”

He stared down at his cast, suddenly worried “Yeah, … home.”

“Dude! Cheer up! You’re getting out of this House of the Infirmed and we still have six weeks of summer! Plus, I bet you get out of doing chores with that cast…. so much more time for video games!”

Smiling as his friend danced around the room, he thought about her phone conversation and wondered what she was hiding from him.

* * *

Dean was only back at The Ranch a couple of days when the Social Worker made a visit.

He gimped down the stairs - he could move around pretty well on his crutches-  and headed to the pantry.

“Naw, boy. No snacks.” Called Benny from the kitchen. “You ain’t so sneaky bangin’ around with them crutches. Get in here and help me with the dinner prep. You may be off the farm chores but there ain’t no reason you can’t pull your own weight around here by being my assistant.”

Grumbling, even though the thought of learning how to do stuff in the kitchen sounded fun, swinging himself on his crutches into the large kitchen, he might as well do as Benny asked, he was bored just sitting around anyway.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Bobby in the living room talking to someone, and not sounding too thrilled about the conversation.

“Never you mind,” scolded Benning seeing the boy’s attention drifting toward the other room. “You just get on in here and get to shelling them peas.”

“That’s Henriksen in there with Bobby.” Dean really couldn’t stand the man. Victor Henriksen was his caseworker and the head of the county child protection services.

Sitting at the table with a large bowl of purple hull peas, Dean strained to hear what the men are discussing.

Seeing this, Benny popped the boy on the head pointing to the peas.

Rolling his eyes, Dean got to work on the task he was given.

# # #

After Dean had been arrested in Kansas City, his biggest fear was being sent back to live with Alistair, he preferred jail or the street to that. Of all his foster homes, that man was the worst.

Dean might not have liked it when he was little and the foster parents wanted to cuddle him after bathtime, or even that one lady who wanted him to sleep naked with her.

He hated a lot of the activities that he was expected to do in some of the homes he had lived in, but the events that happened in Alistair's basement were things he couldn’t think about.

# # #

Dean was startled out of his thoughts by Benny tripping over his crutch and cursing loudly in his thick Cajun slang.

“Sorry, Benny.” He flashed his innocent puppy-dog eyes at the man.

“Just get those peas done and stop the eavesdropping.” Growled the man.

Finishing up with the peas and some other prepping that could be done while sitting at the table, Dean made his way toward the downstairs bathroom. He tried to be extra quiet when he neared the living room door.

“... I trust you will be more vigilant in the future Mr. Singer. You give these boys too much freedom. Now, I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but they are still children, even if most of them are also criminals.”

Leaning against the hall wall, frowning at the Social Workers accusations. ‘ _Maybe he and some of the others did have a few run-ins with the law but that don’t give this jerk the right to bad mouth Bobby_.’

“Look, Victor, I’ve been running this ranch for over thirty years, and we’ve had the boys home here for over twenty. Heck, some of the staff used to be part of the system and learned their trade right here on this ranch. How many of these kids would be living on the streets or on drugs, or _dead_ if they didn’t have this place? I’ll tell ya.. most of them, that’s how many. I take these kids when everyone else, including the state social service agency, had given up on them. These young men earn every bit of freedom they have here. Just like in any family, everyone here is important and everyone has their duties.”

“In other words, you put these kids to work…” Henriksen frowned accusingly at Bobby.

“It’s a working ranch.” Bobby declared. “There are chores for everyone. These boys learn responsibility, self-discipline and maybe even a little pride in themselves. No one is asked to take on a task that they are unable to handle, or to do anything that is counter-intuitive to their growth as a person.”

“And allowing them to do these chores, these tasks, without adult supervision. Does that seems like a good plan to you?”

“Why you…” Bobby growled. “The boys that are _legally_ old enough do the harder chores on the farm and work with the ranch staff, some boys are more suited to assist in helping out with the younger kids. You know our small state stipend doesn’t cover more staff than we have already, and the earnings from the farm and ranch go back into running that side of the business. The older boys don’t need babysitters. We are trying to instill good work ethics and social responsibility, I want these boys to become better adults than the examples they’ve experienced in their young lives.”

“Perhaps your idea of child safety is a bit outdated. According to the report, you had three boys out on a fence line unsupervised and working with dangerous equipment, and one of them was critically injured. Where was your staff when he was lying unconscious and bleeding?” Victor bit back.

Gasping, Dean threw his hands over his mouth. ' _I knew I’d caused trouble. Henriksen wants to hurt Bobby because of me.'_   As fast as he could with a broken leg, Dean made his way up to his room.

“Go read somewhere else!” He yelled at his younger roommate.

“Screw you, Dean! It’s my room, too!”

Grabbing the smaller boy by the shirt, he pulled him up from the bed, raring back to punch the kid.

Dean’s arm was grabbed by a large strong hand. And he looked over his shoulder.

“B-Benny!”  He let the smaller boy go and watched him hide behind the big man.

“Alfie! I’m sorry.” Cried Dean. “I’m so sorry.”

“Alfie, go down to the kitchen and wait for me.” Patting the small boys head as he sent him downstairs, “And you…” He crossed his thick arms, looking fiercely down at Dean. “What has gotten into you?”

Shrugging and looking away Dean doesn't answer.

“Unacceptable. Look at me, Dean.” The man softened slightly “You aren’t a bully. Why were you threatening to hit little Alfie? I thought you liked that sweet little guy.”

“I do, Benny,” He paused to wipe at the threatening tears. “He’s a great little kid. I didn’t really want to hurt him. I just… He wouldn’t leave…. I …” He wiped his face again, losing the battle with his tears. “Benny…” His voice small and weak. “Henriksen… He’s … He’s taking me isn’t he?”

“What? Oh, Cher, no.” Placing his huge hand on the boy's shoulder. “No. That man downstairs is just doing his job, both of them are. They both care about you and the other boys. Sometimes harsh words are spoken when adults get to discussin’ the hard issues.”

Sighing and sniffing, Dean doesn’t look at Benny. “Maybe.. it’d be better, you know, for Bobby, if Henriksen did take me away. I’m sure I caused more trouble than I’m worth anyhow.”

“Oh, now, boy, don’t you get like that…”  

“NO Benny!” Shouted the boy. “That’s what they do!” Taking a step back away from the man he stumbled and landed on Alfie’s bed.  “Dammit!” He cried out. “Leave me alone! GO AWAY! DON’T TOUCH ME!”

The gentle, giant man looked at the boy, completely shocked at the outburst, stepping back, he only wanted to calm the boy.

“STOP! NO! Leave me ALONE!” Dean cried, violently scratching at his own arms. “NO! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! GO AWAY!”

Running up the stairs to check on the shouting, Bobby and Victor almost ran into Benny in the doorway. All three men were stunned and staring at the boy as though he was possessed.

“Dean! Son! Stop this.” Yelled Bobby trying to snap the boy out of his tantrum.

By this point, Dean was screaming incomprehensibly, no longer using words, just screaming and crying. Scratching and gouging his own arms.

Bobby sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed the thrashing boy by the wrists, holding Dean’s arms above this own head, pinning his wrists to the bed to stop him from doing more damage to himself.

When Dean felt his arms being tightly held above his head he went completely still. Tears streaming down his cheeks and terror in his wide eyes as he stared at Bobby. “I’m sorry, Sir.” His voice small and emotionless. “I-I’ll be good.”

Bobby immediately let go of Dean and stood up from the bed.

Wiping the tears from his face, Dean began to undress. Moving mechanically and not looking at anyone. He pulls off his t-shirt, dropping it to the floor. Shaking violently as he tried to unbutton his jeans.

“Dean. Stop! What are you doing?” Asked Bobby, on the verge of tears himself.

“Whatever Sir wants,” Dean replied blankly, fighting with his jeans button.

“I… I don’t think I- I can get o-on my knees, Sir… the cast…”

“Dean, son, please stop this.” Bobby’s voice shaking as he tried to obtain the boy’s attention. “What makes you think I’d ever want anything like…. THAT… from you?”

“Sir is not pleased? I - I can still…” Struggling to move his broken leg out of the way while he still tried to undo his pants.

A frightened and confused look took over Bobby’s face.

Benny, sat on the top step with his face in his hands, attempting to calm himself and not puke, he’s never seen a child react in such a way.

Victor, assessing the situation, tried to discern if this was a response learned recently, here at the Ranch, or if the boy had been trained in submissive behaviors elsewhere. From the sickened look on Benny’s face and the horror in Bobby’s eyes, he assumed that this is something the boy has been coerced into from a young age. The way he completely zoned out and attends to the business of undressing and offering to please his aggressor, how he completely stilled and went into auto-pilot when he was restrained.

“Bobby,” Said Victor, touching the man’s arm, pulling his attention away from the half dressed boy lying shaking on the bed. “Just cover him with a blanket and let’s go talk. I believe there are some gaps in this boy’s file. We need to talk about a plan of care, and I have some research to do.”

“Benny, will you please watch him while he rests? And possibly tend to his woulds if he sleeps soundly enough?” Victor asks. Benny nods in affirmation.

Victor knows he has a lot of work ahead of him to try to track down information in Dean’s case. Getting details from another state is never an easy task. But there is something about this boy that pulls at Victor’s heart, he wants to help him. That simple fact is something that he and Bobby are able to agree on.


	10. The Gods Are Not Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's day starts with on a sour note... surely his day will get better, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super Special Sunday!  
> I'm posting two chapters today :)  
> Enjoy!
> 
>  _'Italics'_ = thoughts

When he walks through the front door of the Center, Castiel is greeted by Mr. Fizzles and Garth.

“Good Morning, Mr. Novak! We’re so happy you're here today.” The puppet mouths, a little too close for Castiel’s comfort.

“I’m glad to be here, Garth.” Cas steps around the skinny man and his floppy sock puppet. “I’m going to head to the classroom and set up my things. Do you want to walk with me?”  He acknowledges the man, not the puppet.

Mr. Fizzles and Garth share a look. “Garth wanted to walk with you, but he thinks you're rude for ignoring me.” Replies Mr. Fizzles, while Garth looks away, frowning.

Pausing mid-step, Castiel squints at the man and puppet. “Seriously?”

Huffing, Garth turns on his heels and stomps off to another room.

“Well, shit. This is getting off to a great start.” Jogging up the stairs, Castiel is glad to make it to the room without meeting any other students that he might piss off. Approaching the classroom, he sees one of the orderlies who was with the group last week.

“Good morning.” Castiel nods to the man.

“So far, so good. No one is bleeding, yet.” The man grunts.

“Oo-kay…”

“Your boy’s already in the room. He pitched a fit to come here straight from breakfast.”’

“Um, my boy?”

“Yea, you know, Cutter Boy. I’m just glad you weren’t dumb enough to give that idiot a pencil sharpener or something.” Leaning against the wall, the orderly rolls his eyes at Castiel.

The man’s attitude doesn’t sit well with Castiel. Looking through the window in the door, he sees Dean sitting in his seat completely focused on what he is doing. Standing to his full height, he confronts the smart-mouthed orderly.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t ever want to hear you refer to that man as “Cutter Boy” again. He has a name and he is an adult. You will refer to him by his name, that goes for all the people who attend my classes. If I ever hear of you ridiculing any of my students or any other patient at this Center, I will make sure you never work ANYWHERE in this state again. You may as well look for a job outside the healthcare system.” He states sternly.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Replies the large man as he too stands to his full height and looks down at Castiel.

Cas doesn’t blink or budge. “I am an extremely wealthy man with connections to very influential people from city services all the way to the fucking White House.  
So, go ahead and try.”

The orderly stands his ground for a moment but seeing that Castiel is not bluffing he stands down, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his arms. “Yea. Whatever.”

“Do you really want to test me?” Opening the door and moving to step inside, Castiel never takes his eyes off the large man.

“Fine.” Concedes the orderly.

“I’m glad we were able to come to an understanding.” He steps through the doorway. “Don’t let me down.” He finishes, closing the door behind him.

‘ _Holy shit, what is wrong with you, Cas? That guy is twice your size._ ’ He berates himself as he unpacks his messenger bag.

Taking a few calming breaths, he turns his attention to the man at the back of the classroom. He watches Dean, who appears not to have noticed him enter, still focusing on his task.

As Castiel walks to the man’s table, he observes what he’s so diligently working on.

Dean stops and studies his work, putting the end of his pen in his mouth. He notices Castiel approach and looks up, pen still in his mouth, and smiles directly at him.

“Hello, Dean.” He smiles warmly back. “I see you were excited about getting started today.” He motions to the journal on the table and the markers scattered on the table. “Were you able to do some drawing this past week?”

Nodding, Dean continues smiling and staring at the man standing in front of him.

As he looks into the incredibly green eyes before him, the hair on the back of Castiel’s neck stands on end, sending a shiver through his body.

Dean continues eyeing Castiel, smiling as he plays with the end of his pen between his teeth.

Castiel’s eyes travel between that seductive mouth and those green eyes. Gasping as he hears his name.

“Hey there, Mr. Novak!” Calls Aimee, bouncing into her seat beside Dean.

“Hey Dean, you’re not mad at me, any more are you?” She pouts and nuzzles close.

Dropping his smile, Dean gathers his supplies and puts everything back in his case. He throws a daggering glare at the woman.

Clearing his throat, Castiel is surprised that he hadn’t heard his class enter the room. Now they’re all around the room, getting snacks and heading to their assigned seats.

“Guess he’s still not too happy with you,” he smirks at Aimee. “Might be best if you stick to using your own supplies from now on, hmm.”

She just rolls her eyes and slumps in her chair.

“Okay,” Clapping his hands together. “Let’s all be seated so we can begin.” He makes his way to the front.

The class goes rather smooth for a change. No one breaks anything and there are no fights, Castiel counts that as a win.

Ed and Harry do cause a disturbance by arguing about time travel and which version of The Doctor was the best, but Ruby’s threatening to knock them both into next week if they didn’t shut-up, actually helped stop the argument.  And she didn’t really hit anyone.

Joshua was kind enough to help Garth when he couldn’t grasp some of the instructions pertaining to pencil pressure and light to dark shading. Castiel was impressed with Joshua’s talent and calm, gentle character.

Noting how Dean kept a worried eye on Aimee and had scooted himself as far as possible from her, Castiel thought he might speak to Eleanor about trading Dean and Garth’s seating arrangements.

Moving around the room as his students were busy practicing the examples he’d shown them, Castiel was pleased with their work and the peaceful air in the room.

Everyone was focused and busy working when Eleanor came into the room, smiling as she greeted Castiel. “Impressive, Mr. Novak.”

“They are, aren't they.” He smiles at the burgeoning artist in the class then looks at his watch. “Oh my, has it been an hour already?”

He turns to face the class, “Alright everyone, looks like our time is up for today, but, I want you all to continue practicing these examples and trying some ideas of  
your own. You are all doing very well. I look forward to seeing your progress next week.”

Chatter erupts as the patients gather their supplies.

“Bye, Mr. Novak.” Ruby winks at him.

“Thanks, Teach” Ash smiles wickedly as he makes grabby hands at Ruby.

Castiel makes sure to bid farewell to each person as they go, calling them by name and commenting on something, in particular, he’d noticed during class.

Eleanor watches the artist as he interacts with her patients. “You’re very good with them.”

“I believe strongly in positive reinforcement and in acknowledging people as individuals.” He replies, eyeing the orderly walking past the door.

“I knew my feeling about you was right. You’re a real angel.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Oh, far from it. But I try to be a good person.”

Patting him on the forearm she smiles pleasantly nodding in agreement.

“Oh, Dean dear.” She catches his attention as he walks toward the door, “Remember our discussion? We talked about individual classes with Mr. Novak”

His eyes take in the artist from sandals to blue eyes, licking his lips he nods and takes the few steps over to the table by which the artist and counselor are  
standing.

Watching the man’s movements, Castiel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, unintentionally licking his own lips, letting out his breath. He opens his eyes to see the man now barely a foot away from him.

“... and he agreed to begin today.”

Clearing his thoughts, Castiel realizes that Eleanor had still been talking and he hadn't heard what she said, but apparently, he was nodding in agreement.

“Right, so I’ll leave you to it.” She gestures between the two men.

“To… it? … um… oh, yes, of course… the art session.” He attempts to look as though he hadn’t just been imagining doing deliciously naughty things to the Adonis standing in front of him. ‘ _Get a grip, Cas. Time and place, this is neither._ ’

“Okay, Dear, you have fun with Mr. Novak. Behave yourself and you can have pie with lunch today.”

Smiling, Dean looks shyly away from Castiel.

Castiel can hardly believe how they speak to this grown man as if they were bribing a small child.

“Shall we sit?” he motions to Dean.

Dean takes his usual table, only he sits in Aimee’s place and taps the chair to his left. Castiel understands and grabs his things and sits next to Dean.

“Okay, Dean,” A little nervous at the thought of this being a therapy session and not just an art session.

“I’m not a counselor. I want you to understand that. I’m just an artist.” Dean shakes his head. “Did Eleanor, er, Ms. Visyak, explain what we’re going to be doing?”

Opening his journal, Dean flips to a page where he has been drawing. On the pages are two separate drawings. One is of a large person, close to the viewer yelling at a smaller figure, and the other is of a flying bird with a hand reaching for it and a cage in the background.

Studying the first picture, Castiel is confused as to the meaning behind the drawings. This draw/talk therapy might be harder than Eleanor made it sound. He thinks about some facts he knows.

‘ _Staff and other patients are afraid of how Dean reacts violently without warning. Dean has been nonverbal for almost a year. He self-harms and fights, but shies away from the touch of others. God, this man is a conundrum_.’

“Dean, are you in this drawing?”

Looking away, Dean nods.

Castiel tries another angle. “Am I in this image?”

Shaking his head, Dean points to the door.

Looking through the window, Castiel sees the orderly, standing guard in the hallway. Considering the fact that Dean had pointed to the orderly and acknowledged that Dean put himself in the image, Castiel continues to study the image. Afraid of what Dean may be telling in this picture.

Castiel also studies the second image for a few moments. ‘ _Who might the bird and hand represent?  Is it someone trying to capture or contain Dean... or maybe the Blue Jay represents happiness and Dean is reaching out to recapture his hope or joy._ ’ When Castiel paints, he has a story in his own mind, his own imagining of what it takes bring the image to completion. Surely Dean also has a story behind his drawings, especially as he is trying so hard to communicate through these drawings.

Castiel is quiet and deep in thought as he looks at the images, Dean must have thought he was taking too long because the journal begins to slide away from Castiel toward Dean.

“No, it’s okay. You’re teaching me right now. Please allow me time to study this and maybe you can help me with some clues.”

Squinting his eye and tilting his head in an attempt to understand how he could teach his teacher, Dean looks from the artist to the journal.

Chuckling, Castiel grins fondly at the confused man. “My manager says I have that same look when I’m trying to figure something out.”

Catching himself and hiding his face in his hands to hide the blush on his checks, Dean turns away.

 _‘How can this shy man cause such an air of fear and unease around him? The staff and even other patients are cautious around him_.’  Castiel watches the blush fade from the man’s neck.

He taps his fingers on the journal. “May I see some more?”

Dean relaxes slightly, the corners of his mouth curl up a bit, into a small smile. He turns the pages to one covered in birds.

“These are beautiful. You really enjoy watching the birds, don’t you? I like to watch bees.”

A quiet snickering sound comes from Dean.

“What? Why can’t I watch bees? You think that’s funny?”

Leaning close to Castiel, Dean begins drawing on the page.

Watching, Castiel sees that Dean is drawing bumblebees with his birds.

“HA!! The birds and the bees…” He laughs out at Dean’s sketch. “I like you, Dean. Your sense of humor might just be as bad as mine!?”

Smiling and huffing out a laugh, Dean colors his bees yellow.

“You’re very good at quick sketches. If I asked you to draw something happy, could you do that for me?”

Dean points to the birds on the page.

“Blue Jays, okay, I understand that the birds make you happy. But can you show me something else that gives you a happy feeling?”

Dean leans back in and begins drawing in earnest, biting his lower lip and glancing up through his lashes at Castiel.

Giving Dean some time and privacy, Castiel also begins to sketch in his own journal. He tries not to think about those green eyes as he draws his own pick-up truck... wWell it was that or sketch Dean again and that was not going to happen while sitting right beside him.

The next thing Castiel realizes is the weight of a hand on his dick. He forces himself not to react in shock, keeping calm and definitely not jumping out of his chair at the surprise. He looks down at the hand on him, swallowing every urge that is bombarding upon his instincts, he slowly turns to look at Dean.

“Um…” ‘ _the gods are just not fair_ ’ he thinks. “Not That I don’t, um … appreciate the gesture...but, I think it might not be the...um...” He takes a deep breath, finding it difficult to find the words because that hand has started caressing him, and ‘ _Oh that’s very nice_.’ “... might not be the… most appropriate thing… to be… god, please move, I mean, RE-move your hand.” He finally voices some correct sounding words.

Slowly sliding his hand across Castiel’s thigh, Dean licks his lips and looks down at the man’s tightening jeans. Pulling against Castiel’s leg, causing his legs to spread further apart. Glancing down, Dean obviously offers to take care of the ‘situation’.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice cracks and is not nearly as authoritative as he’d hoped, clearing his throat and trying again. “Dean, I do want to get to know you, to be your friend. I never want to hurt you. Please, understand that sex is not an option… right now. You aren’t in a proper mindset…”

Upset, guilty, and ashamed, Dean turns away and begins marking on the drawing he made, his breathing rapidly increasing. Castiel can tell that the man is anxious and possibly on the verge of a meltdown. Thinking fast, Castiel comes to a crazy idea.

“Great!” He praises the angry man. “That’s right. Show me how I upset you. Draw it for me.”

Dean pauses, not looking up from his paper. Emotion pouring out through his markers, scratching hastily and roughly on the paper, tears welling up in his eyes. Growling, he drops his marker and throws his hands to his face, crying out a sound that is a mix of aggravation and pain and pushing the book away from himself toward Castiel, he collapses down laying his head on his folded arms on the table, his tears pooling on the table.

“Dean...” gasps Castiel. “This is … this is your anger.”

He studies the image on the pages of the journal.

Dean leans up and wipes his face with the hem of his t-shirt. He looks over at the drawing then to Castiel.

Seeing the scars on Dean’s chest, Castiel is struck with a pang of sorrow. ‘ _Who has caused such suffering to this beautiful soul?’_

“Thank you, Dean. You’ve been a wonderful teacher today. You’ve taught me so much.” He checks his watch to make sure that he has time to make sure that Dean is okay before he has to leave.

“I think we’ve had a very successful session today.”

Dean’s brow furrows, unsure of how losing his temper equals a good session.

“Seriously Dean, you don’t even realize how much you shared today. If it’s okay with you I’d like to make a copy of your drawings, so I can study them. I promise that I won’t show anyone else without your permission. Your VERBAL permission.” He nods at Dean. “This means that eventually, you're going to talk to me.” He winks.

A small smile appears on Dean’s face and he nods.

“I do have an assignment for you. I want you to draw, or write your earliest memory. This will only be shared here in our private class time. You still have to practice the techniques I showed you for the group class.”

Nodding, Dean gives him a thumbs-up and moves to gather his supplies.

As they are cleaning up, the orderly comes in to retrieve Dean.

“Dean, don’t forget to leave me your journal. I’ll bring it right back to you. Will you be in the dining hall?”

Grinning and handing over his journal, his hand purposefully grazes against Castiel’s.

“Thank you, Dean. This means a lot that you trust me with your work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gif images not owned by me.  
> The sketches are drawn by me.


	11. The Birds and the Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super Special Sunday!  
> I'm posting two chapters today :)  
> Here's your bonus chapter.  
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"Italics"_ = Thoughts

Awake with the sun, now sitting on his bed dressed and ready, with his art kit packed and in his lap, Dean waits for his escort to take him to breakfast.

He hasn’t been allowed to go anywhere on his own for a month, always having one or two orderlies watching over him.

‘ _Come on, come on_ ,’ fidgeting he looks toward the door, ‘ _I bet it’s the linebacker again today._ ’

He presses his ribs where they were sore after his last encounter with the large man. His ribs don’t really hurt anymore but if he presses in just the right spot, he can still imagine the pain. Taking a deep breath, he stops irritating his ribs and looks down at his art case, instead, running his finger over his carefully painted name on the lid.

‘ _He gave me new pencils, and wasn't mad at me that I let Aimee brake one_.’ He recalls the special time he spent with the artist last week.

‘ _He wanted me to stay after class with him, alone.’_ He lays back across his bed. 

 _'He liked my bird even though I messed it up, and he said he wants to be my friend. What did he mean by that? Maybe I should be extra nice to him today._ ’  Smiling to himself, he thinks about how handsome the artist is.

‘ _Cas... He said I can call him Cas, not Castiel but a nickname_.’ He stretches fully, shoulders popping with the movement.

‘ _He makes me feel... What? I’ll talk to him today. Maybe.’_

Knocking on the door once, the orderly opens the door, shocked to see that Dean is actually ready for the day. “Whasup with you? You schemin’ or somethin’? You’re never out of bed in time for breakfast.”

‘ _I win, got the linebacker today._ ’ He pays himself five imaginary dollars.

Grabbing his case Dean heads out the door with the step of a man who just won the lottery. The linebacker grumbles along behind.

Almost cheerfully, Dean accepts his tray of industrial oatmeal with toast and eggs on the side.

‘ _Never any bacon_.’ he frowns, grabbing an orange to help give his breakfast some flavor, and looking over at the coffee.

“Nope. You know you ain’t allowed any caffeine. And don't even try to play dumb with me.” The large orderly reprimands him, pointing to the milk for Dean to choose instead.

Rolling his eyes, Dean adds a carton of milk to his tray.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Cutter Boy.” The orderly hisses, standing so close Dean can feel his breath on his face.

Cringing from the hot breath and big muscles flexing at him, Dean cautiously moves to an empty table.

The orderly is sitting, facing away from Dean, talking to a couple of other men. They’re discussing things like how they deserve hazard pay and extra money for laundry fees because the idiot residents are such demented morons who can’t make it through a day without pissin’ or shittin’ themselves.

“Or cutting himself like this asshole. This fucker got his blood all over me a couple weeks ago.” Adds Linebacker, gesturing his thumb toward Dean.

' _Literally sitting right here_ …’ Dean thinks as he finishes his lackluster meal.

Dean is ready to go… but he has to wait to be escorted by the biggest lug-head in the place. Pushing his tray to the center of the table, he tries to gain the man’s attention.

‘ _Okay, too subtle._ ’ He begins tapping the table, looking up he sees that all three men are intentionally ignoring him. So, he stands up beside his chair, surely this will let the man know he’s ready to go… still nothing.

‘ _Fine._ ’ He loses what tiny amount of patience he has, and he hates being escorted anyway, so, Dean decides to walk to class on his own. Everyone knows that’s where he’s supposed to go after breakfast time. This action does secure the attention of all three men.

“Dude, you got a runner.” The short, round, black orderly informs the Linebacker.

“Looks like the retard is wandering off, better catch him before he does something stupid.” The skinny redhead teases.

Three giant steps and the linebacker is in front of Dean, looking down at him… snarling. “You try’n to get me in trouble, Cutter Boy?” he growls low, right in Dean’s face.

Swaying side to side, Dean looks past the man, toward the door, eyes pleading. The large man isn’t taking any clues. The frustration building inside him, Dean puts his hand on his art box and changes the motion of his swaying toward the door. His heart rate increases as he becomes more anxious.

“Look at this retard,” Linebacker jokes with the other two. “Won’t say a word but expects everyone to bow down to him, giving him whatever he wants and playing his little baby games.”

With that, Dean plops down on the floor, a growl growing from deep inside him growing louder and louder. Rocking, growling, tapping his art case, Dean is beginning to gain attention from others in the dining hall, patients and staff alike. His behavior and noise stirs up some of the other patients and the room begins to fill with unpleasant sounds.

“Shit! Get him out of here before there’s a damn riot.” The rotund, black man declares, moving away to calm some of the nearby patients.

Dean stills and quietly stands, walking to the door without another look at the linebacker.

“You little shit. You did that on purpose.”

Smirking, Dean continues into the classroom, taking his seat and arranging his book and pencils.

Once Dean is settled and single-mindedly focussed on his drawing, the orderly steps out into the hall. Fed up with dealing with his ward already, he pulls out his phone, he decides that if they want him stuck to this one guy all day, he’s going to keep himself busy with some online gambling.

Coloring some of the birds he drew yesterday, Dean pictures the blue of Cas’s eyes, trying to match the blue on the feathers with that uniquely beautiful blue that he hopes to look into again today. Imagining those eyes looking down on him while he does special things to repay the man’s kindness, he sketches a set of eyes on the page with his birds.

Torn from his daydream, he hears voices outside the door, he isn’t able to make out the words but they sound aggressive.

“Do you really want to test me?” He hears Cas say. Someone in the hall replies, it sounds like the big orderly, but he’s never heard that defeated tone come from the man.

“I’m glad we were able to come to an understanding.” Cas sounds frighteningly dominant. “Don’t let me down.”

Hearing the click of the door closing, Dean doesn’t look up from his paper, unsure what that conversation was about, not wanting to become caught in the middle of someone else's fight... again. Finishing the blue on one of his birds, he senses the artist’s presence. He flicks his eyes quickly, trying not to be obvious, an alicorn belt buckle is right there at his eye level, he gulps and checks his drawing, studying the blue of the eyes he had drawn before looking up at the real thing, he stops coloring and nibbles on the end of his pen.

“Hello, Dean.” That voice gives him urges he hasn’t had in a long time. Not even listening to the words the man is saying, he just smiles and nods while mouthing on the end of his pen. The next thing he knows, Aimee is bouncing around next to him and prattling on about something completely unimportant, he’s sure. She’s too close and he’s crowded. ‘ _Not enough room, not enough air._ ’ Gathering his things he placed them into their proper sections in his case, frowning at the intrusive woman.

“Guess he’s still not too happy with you. Might be best if you stick to using your own supplies from now on, hmm.”

CLAP

Startled, Dean focuses on what Cas is teaching the class. Wanting to do well so he can please this guy and earn the kindness he was shown last week. ‘ _I’m sure he’d like a blowjob, that’d be good payback for these new pencils, right?’_

Right in the middle of class, Ed and Harry shout at each other about Doctor Who.

‘ _T_ _ _h_ ose idiots don’t even know that Tennant was the sexiest Doctor, ever._’ Dean tries to tune them out the best he can, until Ruby gets loud, threatening to knock them both into next week.

‘ _You go, girl_.’ He knows she would win a fight even against both of them.

Using Cas’s examples of shading, Dean works on the eyes he started before class.

Aimee keeps leaning over and watching Dean draw. 

“Ooo, you do really good eyes, Dean, you should draw me.” Dean scoots as far as he can until he’s almost out of table. Growling, he snarls at her when she attempts to move her chair closer.

“Jerk,” She whispers, “Now I’m not going to let you draw me naked.” She sticks out her tongue at him.

Using his body to protect his stuff, and keep her from seeing his drawing. He's still focused on his birds when he hears Eleanor talking to Cas.

“Alright everyone, looks like our time is up for today. But, I want you all to continue practicing these examples and trying some ideas of your own, You are all doing very well. I look forward to seeing your progress next week.” Cas addresses the class.

Everyone around him talks while gathering their things, preparing to leave.

Gathering his own supplies, Dean listens, catching bits of Cas saying goodbye to the others, and what he and Eleanor are saying. But mostly enjoying the sound of the man’s voice.

Heading to the door, he isn’t sure if he is supposed to stay for his individual session now or not.

“Oh, Dean, dear,” Eleanor called to him, “Remember our discussion? We talked about individual classes with Mr. Novak”

‘ _She wasn’t lyin’_...’ Nodding he takes in the full view of the artist. ‘ _Dude likes his sandals and holy jeans._ ’ Licking his lips he catches the man’s eyes for a split second. ‘ _Mmm, I can thank him properly if that asshat linebacker stays out of the room_.’ Walking over to the table where Cas is standing, his eyes take in every inch as he makes his way closer, undressing the man in his mind. One side of his face curls up in a small smirk when he notices how Cas licks his own lips and his breath catches as Dean steps close.

Eleanor is still talking, but Dean isn’t at all interested in her right now. He’s busy working his skills on a potential target; he hasn’t had an opportunity like this since before the cops picked him up last year. This is a rich, smokin’ hot target too, that type always paid well for his talents before. Watching Cas’s reaction, Dean is sure this guy is doing all this volunteering, be-kind-to-others shit for a reason. Dean’s eyes take one last glance at the man, stopping just below the belt.

‘ _Yea, he’s interested_.’

“Okay, Dear. You have fun with Mr. Novak. Behave yourself and you can have pie with lunch.” She states before leaving the room.

‘ _Bitch, always talkin’ to me like I’m a baby. Hell, a taste of artist plus pie. Must be my day_.’ Reaching his usual table, being right-handed, he decides to sit in Aimee’s seat so he will have the freedom to touch Cas with his left hand while drawing. Patting the chair next to him, beckoning Cas to sit by to him.

Smiling a broad toothy smile, Cas walks toward Dean.

“Okay, Dean,” He starts as he sits down. “I’m not a therapist, I want you to understand that. I’m just an artist.”

Shaking his head, not caring, well, actually liking the fact that this man isn’t just another psych doc, he’s had enough of psychologist. Besides, he likes the way this guy doesn’t talk down to him, that’s a nice change.

“Did Eleanor, um, Ms. Visyak, explain what we’ll be doing?” Cas asks, obviously taking Dean’s head shake as a sign of not understanding.

Opening his journal, Dean shows some of his drawings. Cas studies the picture of the flying blue jay with a hand reaching for it, and the one on the opposite page of the shouting person.

Over the last week, Dean had tried to draw and practice the way Cas told the class, but he never could seem to get in the right headspace. Every time he tried working in his journal in the day room an orderly or nurse, or some other idiot would annoy him and look at his papers, wanting to see what he was doing or involve him in some stupid activity. When he had started drawing the bird, he was sitting by the window in the dayroom watching the garden. Being interrupted by one of the orderlies telling him to go take his meds had spoiled his mood, when he returned to his seat he didn’t want to add the trees and sky anymore. Instead, he drew a birdcage. Contrary to Dean, his bird was out of its cage. The picture still didn’t feel right, it was lacking something, so he added a big hand reaching for the loose bird. Unsure of who the hand belonged to, but the hand made him tense, angry, and anxious.

“Dean, am I in this image?” Cas asked, still looking at the drawing of the shouting person.

Shaking his head, Dean points to the orderly in the hall and then to himself.

He figures he may as well be honest and keep the guy happy, he likes being around the artist and the chance of having him all to himself, not having to share with the others. He really hates sharing.

“You’re in the picture?” Cas sounds so sincere in his question, and he’s asking for Dean’s input instead of ordering him around. “Will you show me?”

Dean’s hand reaches out on its own accord, pointing at the small figure crouched in the corner. He’s nervous as the man continues to study his drawings. ‘ _Maybe it was a bad idea to show what I drew_. _He hates it. I’m so stupid. He’s a real artist. He’s just trying to think of a nice way to get away from me_.’  Putting his hand on the page, he pulls the book towards himself. He keeps his eyes down and hovers over his journal.

“No, it’s okay. You’re teaching me right now. Please allow me time to study this and maybe you can help me with some clues.” Cas asks quietly. A softness takes over his face when Dean looks up at him.

‘ _What?_ ’ He squints and tilts his head, questioning the artist’s hold on reality, ‘ _I’m not a teacher, I’m an idiot_.’

Cas laughs. “My manager says I have that same look when I’m trying to figure something out.”

Seeing that sweet smile and an actual twinkle in those beautiful blue eyes, and hearing that deep laugh, Dean’s face begins to warm up.  ‘ _God, he’s still looking at me_.’ He covers his face with his hands to hide himself because he knows he must be blushing as hot as his face feels.

“May I see another?” Cas taps on his journal with one finger.

 _‘Does he really like my pictures?_ ’ A smile bubbles up from deep inside, he smiles at his shoes.

Deciding to show the page with all the little Blue Jays he drew the other day, he leans up and rubs his finger on his favorite little bird, looking over shyly out the corner of his eye.

“These are beautiful. You really enjoy watching the birds, don’t you? I like to watch bees.” Cas smiles proudly at Dean.

‘ _The birds and the bees_ ’ Dean thinks, snickering at the man’s pride in watching bees.

“What? Why can’t I watch bees? You think that’s funny?” Cas asks, still grinning.

Leaning close to Castiel, Dean begins drawing little bees on his page of birds.

“HA!! The birds and the bees…” he laughs out at Dean’s work “I like you, Dean. Your sense of humor might just be as bad as mine!?“

Smiling and huffing out a laugh, Dean colors his bees yellow. ‘ _He likes me. He likes my joke_.’

“You’re very good at quick sketches. If I asked you to draw something happy, could you do that for me?”

Dean points to the birds on the page. ‘ _The birds in the garden make me happy._ ’

“Blue Jays, okay, I understand that the birds make you happy. But can you show me something else that gives you a happy feeling?”

Wanting to draw this just right, Dean leans back over his book and begins drawing in earnest. Biting his lower lip and glancing up through his lashes at Castiel, scooting a little closer. ‘ _I can definitely show you something that would make me happy. Something that will make you happy, too_.’

He notices that Cas has begun to draw something in his own journal. Once Dean has sketched out his picture, he slips his left hand over the other man’s lap and places it on his crotch.

‘ _Oh man, it’s been so long, he’s so warm. Plus, he didn’t jump out of his chair. Bet it won’t take long to… there we go_ …’ He begins to gently move his hand, caressing, urging the soft cock to life. Pressing a bit more he can feel Cas getting stiff; he wants to see it, to taste it. There’s a restlessness building up inside him that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“Not That I don’t, um … appreciate the gesture...but, I think it might not be the...um” taking a deep breath, Cas looks as though he’s having a hard time finding words, “... might not be the… most appropriate thing.. to be… god, please move, I mean, RE-move your hand.”

Dean squeezes the now half hard cock, slowly sliding his hand across Castiel’s thigh, licking his lips. Practically salivating, he looks down at the man’s tightening jeans. He can imagine how this going to go. He slides forward in his chair, ready to kneel between the legs of this hot-as-fuck man. Pulling against Castiel’s leg, causing his legs to spread further apart. Dean wants to do this. Wants to give this man the one thing he knows he’s good at.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice cracks. He clears his throat, “Dean, I do want to get to know you, to be your friend. I never want to hurt you. Please, understand that sex is not an option… right now. You aren’t in a proper mindset…”

‘ _Shit, shit, shit… How did I read him so wrong? But his dick is getting hard… fuck, shit he’s gonna hate me now_.’ Turning away from Cas, he picks up his red pencil and marks out the drawing he made. ‘ _Fuck, fuckfuckfuck stupid idiot useless moron shit_.’ Grabbing random pencils he continues to scratch up the pages. His breathing grows fast and labored, his heart is in his throat, the buzzing in his ears increases.

“Great!” he hears Cas almost shout.

Stopping dead still, staring at his papers, he restarts his scribbles. Every emotion floods his mind all at once, his first thought is to take this pencil and stab himself in the arm, over and over and over. His vision begins to blur, and he thinks he may pass out.

“That’s right. Show me how I upset you. Draw it for me.” Cas says in a firm, oddly approving tone. Like he thinks Dean is doing a good thing.

Dean knows that scribbling on a drawing is not a good thing.

‘ _Why is he still here? Why is he being nice? I fucked up everything_.’ A rumble echos in his chest, he wants to scream out and make the world stop. He hears himself humming, the way he does when he’s fighting himself, fighting not to get physical. He hates being this way. ‘ _Why can’t I stop?!’_ Dropping his marker he throws his hands to his face. It’s wet; he realizes he’s crying. Pushing his book away, he collapses down laying his head on his folded arms on the table, hating that he always cries when Cas is near him.

“Dean,” Cas says with a gasp. “This is … this is your anger.”

Sitting up, he wipes his face with the hem of his t-shirt. Daring to look at Cas, seeing the stricken look on the other man’s face, he knows that Cas saw his scars.

‘G _reat, another reason for him to hate me and walk away. I don’t deserve him near me anyway. He’s perfect, like fine porcelain and he’d get broken if he stayed around me_.’  Tears still trickled down his face. He gives up on trying to stop them.

“Thank you, Dean. You’ve been a wonderful teacher today. You’ve taught me so much.” Cas says as he looks at his watch. “I think we’ve had a very successful session today.”

Dean’s furrows his brow, ‘ _Yep, one session with me and he’s lost his marbles. Didn’t take long for me to break this beautiful being._ ’

“Seriously Dean. You don’t even know how much you shared today. If it’s okay with you I’d like to make a copy of your drawings, so I can study them. I promise that I won’t show anyone else without your permission. Your VERBAL permission. This means that eventually, you're going to talk to me.” Cas smiles.

‘ _Did he just wink at me… again?_ ’ Almost smiling, he realizes that Cas hasn’t moved an inch, nor is he disgusted by Dean’s actions or his scars that he must have seen. Dean nods in agreement to whatever - anything, everything - Cas says.

“I do have an assignment for you. I want you to draw, or write, your earliest memory. This will only be shared here in our private class time. You still have to practice the techniques I showed you for the group class.”

Still nodding, Dean gives him a little thumbs-up before he moves to gather his supplies.

Good-ole-asshat-linebacker orderly comes into the room. ‘ _Must be time to go_.’

Dean senses the tension between the orderly and Cas. Standing, Dean looks between the two men, unsure of this aggressive body language.

“Dean,” Cas says in his usual calm voice, without any of the tension he was posturing toward the orderly. “Don’t forget to leave me your journal. I’ll bring it right back to you.” Dean notices the side glance Cas gives the orderly. “Will you be in the dining hall?”

To Dean, Cas looks like a big alpha wolf protecting his cub against a grizzly bear. Grinning at the image in his head, he hands over his journal. He revels in the touch of his hand to Cas’s. He touched the other man quite a bit today. It was nice to be the one doing the touching.

“Thank you, Dean. This means a lot that you trust me with your work.”

Walking to the dining hall with the orderly, Dean replays his time with Cas. His heart races when he thinks about the way that Cas stood up for him.

If only he could make his voice work when he is around the artist.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sketches were drawn by me. :)


	12. Southern Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Surprise! You get an extra chapter this week!]
> 
> Staring at the cracks in the ceiling, Dean lay on his bed, listening to the birds sing outside. Inside, he can hear the squeaky wheel of a cart in the hallway. He may be awake but he isn’t in the mood to dress today. Not like it really matters. He wears scrubs or sweats all the time, anyway. ...  
> Lying there on his back, he replays all that happened yesterday during the art class...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---------- = Time jump  
>  _"Italics"_ = Thoughts  
>  Added warning for this chapter... Masturbation.

Staring at the cracks in the ceiling, Dean lay on his bed, listening to the birds sing outside. Inside, he can hear the squeaky wheel of a cart in the hallway. He may be awake but he isn’t in the mood to dress today.  Not like it really matters. He wears scrubs or sweats all the time, anyway.

The staff learned fairly quickly how sneaky he could be with pockets. Dean mastered sleight of hand at an early age. He could pick a pocket or steal just about anything he wanted or needed to survive without anyone noticing. He was also skilled at hiding things, things like razor blades, knives, bits of broken glass. All of his jeans were confiscated within the first month after arriving at the Center. He didn’t even have a real mirror in his room anymore. He broke the one that was in his room when he punched it during a fit of anger, within the first week he was here. The one he has now is basically shiny metal, similar to the ones they use in prisons.

So many things had been taken away from him those first few weeks. He was angry all the time and taking all his aggression out on the people and things around him.

Dean follows the sound of the squeaky cart as it passes his door and continues down the hall. He figures it’s a little more than an hour until breakfast. The staff has a shift change at this time every day.

Lying there on his back, he replays all that happened yesterday during the art class.

Cas liked his drawings.

Cas even laughed at his joke, even if he hadn’t actually been able to speak to the man.

Cas was nice to him.

Cas’s dick hardened when he felt him up.

Cas wasn’t mad at him for touching him. Sure he made him stop, but Cas wasn’t angry. Dean was dejected at the moment, but Cas was awesome about the whole thing.

‘ _I felt him up!_ ’

Cas’s dick felt really good.

Palming his own dick, ‘ _He wasn’t even erect and it was nice_.’

Slipping his hand inside his boxers, Dean wraps his fingers around his own cock. Closing his eyes, the vision of penetrating blue eyes forms in the darkness. He moans as he grows stiff in his own hand.

Raising his butt off the bed, he kicks off his pesky boxers. Now fully naked, he reaches his hand to his face, licking his palm. Knees up, heels planted on the mattress, he grips his shaft and begins to stroke with purpose.

Imagining Cas’s hand on his dick instead of his own, he works himself fully hard. With his other hand fondling his balls, pinching between them as he pumps his cock.

A drop of precum hits his belly, he rubs his thumb over the tip, pressing the slit and coating his shaft with his own slick.

He takes two fingers into his own mouth and sucks them until they are good and wet. Opening his mouth, he lets the spit drool across his chest as he reaches down between his legs.

He sighs as the tip of one finger breaches his hole. Rubbing against the band of muscle, he pushes his finger in as far as he can. Pumping and twisting his finger, as his other hand continues to stroke his cock.

He slides in a second finger and begins a smooth motion of his hips, fucking up into his fist and down onto his fingers. Sinful sounds escape his lips as he nears his climax, fucking himself between his fist and fingers. Groaning out, his brain not quite able to form actual words at this point.

His balls tighten, and he massages the smooth skin inside his hole, as he pumps hard on his rock-hard cock. His back arches and his ring of muscle cinches down on his fingers, while his cock pulses and he shoots all over his chest and belly.

The orderly opens his door just in time to witness Dean cum all over himself and to hear him shout out one word.

“Cas!”

“Great.” the orderly mumbles, rolling his eyes. “Now that you’re done. Get your ass up and get ready for breakfast.”

Trying to catch his breath, Dean lays on his bed, smiling. He hasn’t done that since he’s been here. Sure he’d unloaded a few times in the shower, but nothing as intense as that. His mind still plays the ‘Cas-show’ as he comes down from his orgasm. Closing his eyes, he enjoys the images he conjures of the man’s strong shoulders and flat stomach. He thinks about how Cas laughed at his little Bee drawings and how the sound of his voice makes Dean shiver. Like every sound the man makes is a secret code going straight to Dean’s cock.

“Look, man, I don’t want to have to come over and get you out of that bed, I _really_ don’t want to touch you right now. So get your ass up, glean that jizz off, and put some clothes on.” grumbled the tall thin man standing the doorway, his face screwing up in disgust.  

Dean rolls over, wiping himself clean with his sheets and grabbing his shorts off the floor.

“Seriously?” whined the orderly.

Smirking, Dean finds a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, foregoing shoes today. Before leaving his room, he grabs his art case.

“Come on, princess.” the orderly attempts a curtsy as Dean exits his room.

In the dining hall, Dean scans the bulletin board, checking the calendar.

' _Okay, yesterday was Tuesday,_ ’ He can tell because that block on the calendar shows NOVAK ART CLASS in block letters. Dean decides to draw his own calendar in his journal. He wants to be able to remember what day it is so he knows when it will be Tuesday again. Keeping up with days is so hard here.

After breakfast, Dean, followed by an ever-present orderly, goes to the day room.

' _Guess the linebacker can’t handle being with me two days in a row_ ,’ Dean muses, looking around and not seeing the man anywhere.

Ed and Harry are standing right by his favorite window seat. Walking straight over to them, he sees that they are looming over Garth.

‘ _That skinny squirt is sitting in my seat_ .’ Is his first thought, but then he notices that Ed and Harry are laughing and keeping something away from Garth. By the look on the skinny little man’s face, Dean knows that he isn’t in on their joke, instead, he  _is_ the joke.

Dean pauses watching Ed and Harry taunt the small man sitting in Dean’s favorite window seat. Images flash through Dean’s mind... of fifth grade and being kicked repeatedly in his ribs after being shoved down in the dirt; of the junior-high football team cornering him in the locker and taking turns punching him to see who could make him bleed first; teachers scolding  him because he didn’t have on clean clothes; girls laughing at him because he smelled sweaty and dirty…

Dean knows exactly what it means to be the butt of a joke, and Garth is too sweet and innocent to be bullied by two idiots like Harry and Ed.

Dean is completely pissed off and somewhat emboldened by his morning activity. Without a second to let himself think, he squares his shoulders and stomps right up to the threesome.

Garth looks up with concern in his eyes, causing Harry to turn around just in time to meet Dean’s fist.

“Shit!” yells Ed. “What was that for?”

Dean growls, pointing to Garth, “NO.” He grunts, voice rough from lack of use.

Ed looks at Garth and back to Dean. “He doesn’t even understand what’s going on around him.” he retorts.

“NO!” Dean barks again. His throat actually hurts under the strain of speaking so loudly.

Two orderlies are about to grab Dean when Eleanor stops them. “Stay close but let me observe this. He isn’t attacking and he’s using his words.” She speaks softly so that she doesn’t disturb the scene playing out in front of her.

“Why’d you hit me?” Harry cries out, holding his nose.

Dean snatches Garth’s sock away from Ed, then he kneels beside Garth’s chair, looking up at the man, as he presses the stretched-out sock into the man’s hand.

“Okay?” he chokes out, in a raspy whisper.

Garth wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Dean,” he whispers.

Dean grumbles as he looks at the man. “Off.”

“Huh?” Garth questions.

Pointing to the chair Garth occupies. “Mine,” Dean commands, wishing for this whole incident to be over so he can be alone, his throat hurts and so does his hand. He’s just glad he punched that idiot Harry with his left instead of his right because that would make it hard to draw.

“Oh, y-y-yea, sure. Anything for you, Dean.” Garth raises out of the chair, patting Dean’s arm.

Ed and Harry standby, dumbfounded, watching the exchange. “He talks?” Ed asks Harry.

Still holding his nose, Harry shrugs his shoulders.

“Dude, you’re bleeding. Go see the nurse.” Ed looks at Harry in horror. They both take one more look at Dean and Garth.

Dean rises to his full six foot one inch, squaring his frame; frowning and furrowing his brow, he snarls. Leaning toward the two men, he growls a deep, threatening sound at them. They look at him like two rabbits about to be eaten by a bear.

“Go, Harry! Move it. He may start biting next!” Ed pushes the still shocked man away from the threatening psychopath.

Dean takes his seat, placing his art case on the table. Garth waves, smiling at Dean as he goes to find another seat.

Eleanor assures the orderlies that the situation is settled and that they can return to their regular duties.

“Good morning, Dean,” she says as she approaches him.

He looks up and waves awkwardly at her.

“How are you feeling today?” she asks, hoping that the man will continue speaking, even if it is in small, choppy responses.

Dean shrugs his shoulders. ‘ _She doesn’t sound pissed, but she’s tricky. She must have seen me hit Harry… I bet I’m in big trouble._ ’

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she tries again.

Shaking his head, he looks at her then down to his journal. He continues numbering the little boxes he’d drawn on the pages. ‘ _Don’t play her game… She’ll just get you strapped down again for being violent_. I didn’t do nothin’ wrong… well, maybe I did but that fucker was askin’ for it.’

“What are you making there, Dean?” She asks. ‘ _Please talk to me._ ’ She has never had a patient, who wasn’t physically disabled, keep themselves nonverbal as long as Dean has. She is deeply concerned about his mental state. She hasn’t heard him speak in full sentences in almost a year. Not since his first month here at the Center.

He ignores her, choosing to work on his drawing instead. He knows that a smart woman like her would know a calendar when she sees one. He understands her game and he isn’t falling into her trap. Once his boxes are all numbered, he writes the week-days across the top row.

‘ _There, bitch, now can you tell what it is?_ ’ Grabbing his favorite blue pencil, he colors all the Tuesday boxes. Sitting back he studies his little calendar. ‘ _Wish I could match Cas’s blue eyes_ …’

“Are you going to color the other boxes?” Eleanor asks as she watches him study his work. “It could be a pretty rainbow of colors if you did.”

He gives her an indignant look, shifting his things so that his open art case blocks her view of his journal, and goes back to work on his pages. ‘ _This is my free time and not a stupid session with my counselor, if you ain’t gonna lock me up why don’t you leave?_ ’

“Well, okay then.” She acknowledges his gesture as a close to this one-sided conversation. “I’ll see you later.” She says as she pushes her chair flush to the table.

As soon as her back is turned, he looks up and flips her off.

A man standing near the main door catches his attention. All the staff here wear scrubs and none of the patients are allowed jeans. This man is in dark jeans, untucked blue button up, and a ball cap. The man’s turned to the side and Dean can’t make out who the stranger is from this view. Most of the visitors come with several family members, keeping to the garden or one of the meeting rooms, never in the day room with all the other patients.

He sees Aimee slide up beside the man. Glancing across the room, he notices that Ruby also sees Aimee talking to the man. Dean leans back and watches the show.

Ruby runs up to Aimee and the man. The two women face off and the man takes a step back as their aggression builds. The man glances around quickly, possibly looking for help.

Dean doesn’t mind a girl fight, as long as they stay on the other side of the room. Somehow they usually end up topless and that’s never a bad thing in his opinion. He smiles, ‘ _Titties are pretty_.’

Just as the excitement begins to build, Eleanor joins the group. There are a few words exchanged and she sends the girls off to opposite sides of the room. The man turns to walk with her to a table.

“Holy fuck,” Dean whispers.

* * *

 The orderlies lead the way downstairs to the expansive lawn.

“Quit lagging behind, you heard the nurse’s orders, ‘Everyone in this group _deserves_ some fresh air and sunshine on this _beautiful_ day,’“ mocks the grumpy orderly, as he crowds Dean out the door.

Dean stumbles out the door quickly, to avoid getting ‘orderly sweat’ all over him.  

“If we catch any of you wandering off, there’ll be no more outside time for you for two weeks!” yells the tall, red-haired orderly.

Dean meanders over to the large magnolia tree. At least there he’ll have some shade while he gets his ‘fresh air’. He pulls out his art kit and starts sketching his view of the tree. Thinking about how eventful his morning has already been. Doing his best not to think about why Cas might be here talking to Eleanor.

He hears the sound of birds up in the tree and spots a nest on one of the low branches,  he watches the parent bird going back and forth bringing food to the babies.


	13. Baby Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Surprise! Here's your bonus chapter!]  
>  _'Italics'_ = Thoughts
> 
> https://youtu.be/70hZrpVBWvM Blue Bird song. This song made me think of Cas and Dean, and Dean's love of Blue Jays.

Castiel takes copies of Dean’s drawings home to study. There are some disturbing examples on some of the pages, right next to exquisite details of beauty. 

One page has the Blue Jays in various positions, plus the little bees that Dean added. On the very next page is the image of a young child, with a single tear on his cheek. A few pages over is another image of a child that truly upset Castiel. This child is barefoot and dirty, curled in on himself, but the most disturbing feature is the large male hand looming above the child, holding a strap.

    

“Are these memories?” he whispers to no one.

There are also pages and pages of words, written in what seemed random directions. Some words were written over others and some completely marked out. Several of the drawings are marked out as well. Like the one that Dean tried to destroy during their session. The session that had taken a turn that Castiel never expected. 

Castiel promised Dean that he would not show the book nor would he report what happened during the session. He wants to keep his promise, but he also needs to learn more about this man that he’s going to be spending unsupervised time with. 

He has seen this man fall into fits of anxiety on more than one occasion. He’s mostly non-verbal and has an aversion to being touched. But what happened during their individual session surprised Castiel and nearly threw him completely off his game. 

Having the man actually grope him like that was the most surreal thing he can remember happening to him. It had taken his brain a moment to catch up, and his lower brain enjoyed the moment a little too much. Once he did regain upper-brain function, he was afraid he had either pissed off or frightened Dean. Luckily he was able to salvage the situation into a fruitful learning and therapeutic lesson. 

Tuesday evening, Castiel called Eleanor to arrange a meeting on Wednesday morning. He knows he needs some background information on Dean, something to help him translate what is hidden in his journal.

Wednesday morning Castiel grabs a light breakfast, fills a travel mug with coffee, and makes the hour-long drive to the Lady Bird Center for Mental Health. 

Funny how an hour can seem so long at times, then other times you barely notice it passing. This morning, it feels like a long drive. He has plenty of time to think about Dean’s disturbing drawings and to replay the few moments of Dean groping him. 

The fact that the man had his hand all over Castiel’s junk isn’t what bothered him, his own delayed reaction and the fact that he liked it… that bothered him. He was supposed to be the professional, the teacher. He isn’t supposed to be playing out fantasies in his mind about a patient in a mental center.  

The horn, of the car behind him, brings him out of his thoughts, back to reality and to the fact that the light turned green. 

The receptionist informs him that Eleanor is not in her office, but is still in the day room. Following the young lady’s directions, he makes his way to the second-floor day room, which happens to be on the opposite end of the hall from his usual classroom. 

The room is larger than he expected, taking up the width of the building, and nearly square. Three walls have windows, allowing for excellent views of the gardens surrounding the building. Along the fourth wall there are three doors, the double doors he came through and two other doors along the wall: one is busy with staff, and he figures that one leads to offices. The third door must lead to patients’ rooms. 

There are several nurses and orderlies busy about the room, tending to patients here and there. Castiel takes a moment to watch the people buzzing around doing all sorts of various activities. Some playing board games, others watching TV or reading. There’s one woman waltzing, alone, with no music. He has to smile at the sight of her, she must be hearing beautiful music in her own mind. 

He finally sees Eleanor speaking to a woman, and is about to wave at her to capture her attention when he notices Dean coming in through the third door. 

‘ _ Yep, must be patient rooms through there.’ _

Dean is followed by a tall, thin orderly and seems to be single-mindedly heading toward a particular window, not glancing around the room at all.  

‘ _ I wonder if that’s the same window he was standing on the first day I visited? _ ’

A split-second later, Dean’s stance and demeanor completely change from casual to guarded. He stands taller and squares his shoulders. Taking a few quick, aggressive steps he pulls back and punches Harry square in the nose. Castiel is completely shocked at the man’s actions.

“NO.” he hears in a loud grumble.

“NO!” he hears again, over the noise of the room. Then he sees Dean kneel beside a man in a chair. It’s Garth. 

Castiel watches as Dean tends to the smaller man with tender movements, handing him something that he had jerked away from Ed. A moment later, Garth hugs Dean, then stands up, offering the chair to Dean. 

‘ _ That’s interesting.. _ .’ Castiel is too far away to hear what the men are saying. He notices that Eleanor and two orderlies are nearby and watching closely. He’s somewhat surprised that they hadn’t grabbed Dean the moment he struck Harry. 

Dean stands and leans, no he  _ looms _ over Harry and Ed with a frightening look on his face. Ed and Harry rush away toward one of the nurses. 

At that point, Eleanor finally approaches Dean, who is now sitting back down and pulling out some of his art supplies. She sits at the table with him and Castiel really wishes he was close enough to hear if Dean was actually joining her in conversation. 

Deciding that he had reached voyeuristic levels of eavesdropping tendencies, he turns to peruse the bulletin board.  The next thing he realizes is Aimee standing next to him. 

“Hey there, Mr. Casteel Novak.” she purrs.

“Hello, Aimee. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m so much better now that you’re here. I’m such a lucky girl.”

“Lucky? In what way?”

“Getting to see you two days in a row.” She moves closer, leaning her breast against his arm and torso. Castiel leans away, only to bump into Ruby.

“Oh, whoops.. um... Ruby! Hi.”

“Hi.” Ruby smiles wickedly, eyes roaming his body.

“Watch it, Bitch.” snaps Aimee.

“Hush now, you little pixie,” growls Ruby.

“Whoa, now. Ladies. Please calm down.” Castiel attempts to stop this before it starts. 

“Ruby, Aimee.” Orders Eleanor. 

“This ends now. Aimee, go back and continue your game with Alec and Tom, they’re waiting.” She points to her right at a table with two men and a board game. 

“And Ruby. Go back to watching your show, I know you enjoy Dr. Sexy whether or not you admit it.” 

Ruby pouts, but turns and heads the opposite direction from Aimee. Reaching the seating area in front of the TV, she pushes another patient out of a chair and into the floor, taking the seat for herself.

Eleanor shakes her head. “Well, at least they both complied, fairly quietly.”

Castiel turns from watching Ruby, facing Eleanor and lets out a laugh. “Yea, guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“Holy fuck,” Dean whispers when he hears Castiel laugh and finally sees his face. ‘ _ What’s he doing here? Shit. He’s come to rat me out. He’s gonna tell Eleanor everything. Fuck, I’m so fucked _ .’

“Shall we go to my office?” Eleanor leads the way back out the same door Castiel had entered through.

Castiel holds the office door for Eleanor. 

“You sounded worried when we spoke last night, Castiel. Do you wish to end the individual sessions so soon?” Worried she had asked too much of the man.

“Oh, no. Definitely not. In fact, I’d be appreciative if you would consider adding a second session to Dean’s itinerary. I believe that he wants to express his feelings, but he doesn’t know how at the moment. He seems very confused. But I can see the potential and I… well, I believe I was sent here to help him. 

I’ve made attempts to work with other special needs groups in the past, all ending in failure due to a lack of interest from the centers I’d contacted. The Lady Bird Center is the first to accept my offer.” he pauses, realizing that he’s starting to ramble.

“What I have seen in Dean’s art, his anxiety attacks and just watching him react to the world around him, react to me… Eleanor, I know I can help him.” 

Eleanor offers him a seat and a cup of coffee. “Castiel, are you sure you haven’t had training in psychology? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such a strong natural ability in dealing with patients the way you have.”

“Thank you,” He takes the coffee, sitting next to her in a matching club chair in front of her desk. “I’ve had no professional training in the field of psychology. But, I deal with people in some extremely, um, delicate situations. I’m not sure how much of my art you may have seen.”

“Oh, the nudes?” She asks, unfazed. “I love your work. The recent collection is so classically beautiful. You seem to appreciate the human body as more than a centerfold. The viewer is not bombarded by the naked body but is drawn into the scene and the nakedness of the subject is almost secondary.”

“Wow.” He blushes at her compliment. “I wish you wrote for the critics…” He chuckles. 

“I’m so glad you are able to accept and understand what I’ve tried so hard to put on canvas. I tend to be surrounded by people who lean more toward porn as opposed to classic art.” Not wanting to admit he’s done both. 

Clearing his throat, ready to shift the conversation from himself and back to his purpose for this visit. “I do have two requests to bring forward.” 

“Please, do go on. I apologize for taking us off-subject.”

Smiling his thanks for returning to the intended topic, “In addition to adding an extra session each week, I would appreciate the chance to review Dean’s file. Now, I know it is perhaps against policy, or Doctor/Patient privileged information, HIPAA rules. But, if I’m going to be assisting in treating him, it would be helpful to have some background to help me decipher his work.” 

“You’re correct, it is highly unusual to give a non-professional access to a patient’s file. But this case is unique, you are acting as a therapist, and should have all the tools available to assist you.”

“Thank you, Eleanor. I want to continue these sessions with an open mind. 

When I start a new painting or series of paintings, I spend time studying my subject matter. Oh, not the model, I mean, of course… but the story behind the subject of my painting. The model is, in fact, inconsequential. Just a body to fill the human aspect of the painting.” He thinks about Lisa and how her body was perfect for his painting, but her personality was completely uninteresting to him. 

Eleanor laughs. “Oh, I assumed you were referring to the painting and not the model.”

“Yes,” He smiles, “I hate to admit it, but I couldn’t even remember the name of my most recent model and she sat for me for almost six months.” Shame and the fear of becoming as heartless and empty as his models welled up inside him. 

“Well, at least you weren’t sleeping with her.” She teased, “ You weren’t, were you?”

“God, no… I - I mean…”

“It’s really none of my business.” She waves him off.

Castiel smiles weakly, quite embarrassed. He never even asked that blond model her name, so maybe Eleanor read something in him that he didn’t realize he was broadcasting. His own self-doubt and anxiety was something he tried to keep hidden.

“If you have some time to wait, I can have his file prepared for you in a couple of hours. Perhaps you would like to have a tour of the grounds. Unless you would prefer to have the file delivered to your home this evening?” 

Checking the time, Castiel realizes they have been chatting for over an hour. 

“I have another meeting, but I would love to continue our conversation and settle on a time for these additional sessions.” She proposes.

“A tour would be lovely. I understand that the gardens here are maintained by the local association of Master Gardeners.”

“Indeed they are. Let me inform my secretary of your need for the file and arrange for your tour. I’ll only be a moment.” She steps out to make the arrangements. 

Castiel looks out the window at the garden below, it’s a beautiful day. Smiling as he sees the people enjoying the nice weather. He notices Dean lying in the grass with his journal and art case next to him.

Eleanor enters the office with a young lady. “Castiel, this is Jo. She will be giving you the tour.” She introduces. 

“Jo, please bring Mr. Novak to the dining hall in time for lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jo replies in a thick southern accent. “Please follow me, Mr. Novak.”

“You may call me Castiel.” He smiles, “You’re not from East Texas, are you, Jo?”

“Close, I’m from Arkansas, originally. How’d you guess?”

“I have an ear for accents. I was going to guess southern Missouri, not too far off the mark.” They have a good laugh and mock a few different accents on their way downstairs. Jo asking him to try saying things in different voices and from all the places he’s traveled. 

“Jo, could we go around to the area that is below Ms. Visyak’s office window?”

“Sure, hun. We can go anywhere you want. It’s your tour.”

When they arrive at the area he had been viewing from the office, he spots Dean, who is now laying on his back under a large tree. Excusing himself from Jo, he walks over to the tree and lies down right next to Dean, looking up into the tree trying to see what the man is staring at so intensely.

“Hello, Dean.” he softly greets. Dean beams. Turning his face to Castiel, he points to a bird’s nest on a limb not too far above them.

Castiel can barely hear the sound of baby birds in the nest. “Oh,” he whispers.

‘ _ How can this gentle soul be the same man who burst into a room and nearly knocked another man out a few hours ago? Why had he done that in the first place? What happened to the frightened child from the drawings? _ ’ So many questions he wants to be answered. 

“I have some news, Dean,” Castiel whispers so as not to disturb the baby birds.

Frowning, Dean sits up and wraps his arms around his legs, resting his cheek on his knee, looking down at Castiel.

“It’s not bad news, don’t worry. I believe it’s good news, and I hope you’ll agree.” Sitting up and turning to face Dean. “I spoke with Ms. Visyak this morning.” 

Nodding nervously, Dean points to himself.

“Yes, we did discuss you.”

Dean wipes his eyes with the back of his dirty hand. ‘ _ Dammit, I ain’t gonna cry this time. _ ’

“Wait, Dean, no… I kept my promise. She and I were discussing adding a second session. You and I will begin meeting twice a week. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Worried, he tilts his head and looks awkwardly at Dean’s face, trying to catch the man’s eyes. He wants him to believe and trust in him. 

Opening his eyes, Dean is caught in Castiel’s gaze. It’s like he’s caught in a tractor beam, unable, unwilling to look away. Studying the beautiful bluer-than-blue eyes as they sparkle in the traces of sunlight filtering through the lush green leaves above. Raising his own head so he can look more directly at Castiel, his mouth goes as dry as a desert, he swallows hard, then licks his lips. Never releasing or being released from the magnetism of those penetrating eyes. 

Castiel flicks his eyes briefly when he notices Dean’s tongue slip between his lips, moistening them. 

‘ _ Fuck, that's sexy… _ ’ a thousand thoughts cross his mind in a millisecond, ‘ _ Cas, control yourself… But he’s so beautiful… No, no. That’s not why you’re here...Cas, you’re still staring, stop it. Look at the bird nest.. or anything _ …’ 

Castiel nearly chokes on his own saliva, at least coughing stops him staring. 

“Um...I’m going to have lunch with Eleanor. Ms. Visyak… and we will be arranging for the additional sessions. I hope I’m not being too forward in setting up more sessions without consulting you first. 

I really think it will be beneficial to your therapy. You are such a quick learner and some of your artwork is quite profound. 

I began studying your work last night. That was when I knew I had to meet with her and schedule the new sessions.”

Dean smiles, okay, maybe he swoons, as Castiel rambles on and on. Resting his cheek on his own knee, he could stay here and listen to Castiel talk all day. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Novak.” Jo interrupts, “I’m sorry, but we need to move on if we are going to finish the tour in time for you to meet Ms. Visyak for lunch.”

“Oh, Jo. I do apologize. I forgot myself. I wanted to share my good news with Dean and completely lost track of the time.” Winking at Dean and playfully wincing like he’d been caught playing hooky.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I did agree to this tour and lunch. Ms. Visyak and I will make the final decisions about your additional sessions.” Standing up, he wipes the grass from his clothes. “See you soon, Dean.”

Dean waves. As soon as Joe and Castiel walk away, he collapses. Flopping back flat on the ground, sighing, he smiles and giggles to himself.  _ “Did you hear all that? _ ” he asks the baby birds. 

Laying there, floating, he never wants to come down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drawings in this chapter were done by me.


	14. "Hey Cas."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choosing to ignore the orderly (instead of punching his fucking lights out), Castiel steps next to Dean, pushing the orderly’s hand off the other man and replacing it with his own, gentler touch. He can feel Dean’s heart racing through his thin shirt, his chest heaving in fast shallow breaths. Tilting his head, he looks up into Dean’s face, but his eyes are tightly closed. Castiel knows this is a panic attack.  
> “Dean, you’re okay, everything is okay. Is your head alright?” Dean stiffly nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry, I'm a day late in posting. I hope this longer chapter makes up for my tartiness.)  
> ### = Flashback, beginning and end.  
> \------- = Time jump  
>  _'Italics'_ = Thought
> 
> The sketches are by me.
> 
> An allusion to rape - during a memory.

Castiel watches through the window of the classroom door. Dean is sitting at his usual table, so completely focused on his work that he is unaware when Castiel opens the door.

“Hello, Dean.”

Looking up, the afternoon sun shining in through the windows catches Dean’s eyes and they sparkle when he greets Castiel with a wide smile. Swallowing an audible gulp, he clears his throat a couple of times. He’d practiced speaking out loud in the shower this morning, not caring about anyone around him, they were all nuts and talked to no one all the time anyway. He hadn’t spoken to anyone else all morning, though.

“Hey, Cas,” he replied with a rough, barely used voice.

Castiel beamed. “It’s so good to hear your voice, Dean. Thank you so much for making the effort.”

Dean’s cheeks warm, he knows he’s starting to blush, he looks down at his open journal. “It just... don’t work sometimes,” he mumbles low, barely above a whisper.

“I’m fine with whatever you can do, Dean. I do admit that it will be easier to carry on a conversation if I’m not the only one talking.” Pulling the easel and flip chart closer, he lays his messenger back on the table next to Dean’s.

“Shall we begin?” Dean nods in agreement.

They begin by reviewing the various shading and highlighting techniques Castiel described previously. Working together for about half an hour, he focuses on the art, before he has the courage to bring up a few things that had piqued his curiosity while studying Dean’s journal.

‘“I’m simply amazed at your skill, Dean. Have you ever taken art classes before?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Dean doesn’t look up. “A little,” he mumbles.

“How do you mean… ‘A little’?”

“In school.”

“Oh, so you took art in High School?”

With the slightest shake of his head, Dean replies, “Hu-uh. Just kid stuff. I… um, snuck in art class … cuz I didn’t wanna do math.” His voice hushed so that Castiel has a hard time hearing him.

“I can completely understand that.” Castiel laughs, “I don’t care much for math myself. How long were you able to attend the class?”

Dean is working on adding green and blue to his drawing. “Couple weeks... Got busted ...”

Castiel laughs right out, “Aww, that sucks!” Smiling at Dean’s surprised look. “Um. I mean... Too bad you weren’t able to keep the art class in your schedule.” He tries to redeem himself. Dean gives him a small smile. “Were you able to add an art class in your schedule later?”

“No.” The smile fades from Dean’s face. “Never stayed long enough.” He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“Just basics, no extracurricular stuff... They never…” He stops mid-thought, wiping his eyes as he tries to focus on his drawing.

“Hey, can I see what you're working on?” Castiel changes the topic, seeing that Dean was having trouble continuing with his thought. “I’ll show you my truck that I’ve been sketching.”

Looking up, interested in seeing what’s in the other man’s book, Dean contemplates for a brief moment, then turns his own journal to face Castiel.

Castiel, in turn, slides his own book to Dean, smiling, like a kid sharing secrets with a new friend.

They carefully study the other’s work.

Leaning down and barely lifting the corner to peek at the image below, Dean shifts his eyes up toward Castiel, questioning if he can look beyond the open pages.

“You can look through my book if you let me look through yours.”

Dean knows that Castiel will eventually see his entire journal, but he is still hesitant to comply with the deal. There are things in there that he isn’t quite ready to show anyone. Raising his hand to his mouth, he bites at the already short nail of his index finger.

“If you don’t want to see my other sketches…” Castiel teases and reaches for his own book, attempting to gently push Dean into allowing him to review his work of his own volition, not because he has to show his ‘therapist’.

“no…” Dean whines, “I do…”

“You do want to see my sketches?”

“Mhmm,” Nods Dean as he still aggravates his fingertip, nearly to the point of bleeding.

“I’m happy to share. But it’s only fair if you allow me to see your work as well.

Dean, I swear that I will never judge you. Remember, while I’m teaching you about art techniques, you’re teaching me about Dean.” Raising his eyebrows, a small hopeful smile crossing his face, watching as the man processes the idea.

‘ _Please, Dean. I want you to open up to me on your own terms. I know you have so much hidden in that beautiful mind of yours._ ’

Eyes dancing between the two books, Dean finally looks up to Castiel. ‘ _He actually wants me to give him the okay, he’s not going to look…. or let me look… at any other pages until I do... Even though he’s in charge. He has all the power_.’

As though he is reading Dean’s mind, Castiel speaks gently. “Dean, you share the control of the sessions. I will never force you to do anything if you aren’t ready. I respect you.”

That completely takes Dean by surprise. No one, since Bobby, has spoken to him the way Castiel does.

# # #

“So that’s what you and Bobby have been keeping secret from me?! You fuckin’ lier! You said we’d be friends forever!” Dean screamed at Charlie, flailing his arms and kicking the bed with his freshly un-casted leg.

“Jesus, Dean! Your gonna break your leg all over again! Will you calm down?”

“You should leave! Just go ahead and leave now! I don’t even know why you hung around all summer anyway. You could already be at your big fancy college making friends with rich college pricks.”

“I stayed because YOU’RE my FRIEND! You were hurt, and this has been our last summer together that we get to be plain ole kids. I was going to tell you sooner but with everything that happened I just couldn’t… I didn’t want to add to your pain when you were in the hospital with a damn broken leg.”

“Yeah, well now I ain’t got a busted leg, no cast, no more excuses for you to pity me and hang around this piss-ant town and all the losers like me.”

“You are such a shit! Everything isn’t about YOU, DEAN! I’ve worked hard in school all my life. You knew I had been spotted and interviewed by college recruiters. Dean, it’s MIT - I can’t pass this up.”

“But what about Senior year? What about us? You’re only 17 and your leaving for MI-fuckin-T.”

Charlie groaned and flopped on the bed, completely put-out with Dean’s whining. She had been trying to get her point across for over an hour.

“FINE!” Dean screams. “Just … Fine. Go to college and be happy. I’m better off on my own anyway.“  He grabbed a plaid over shirt and stormed out the door.

“Dean! Where are you going?” Charlie called from the top of the stairs.

“OUT! He yelled as the screen door slammed behind him.

\------- ---------- --------

“Bobby, it’s been hours, it's getting dark. Where could he be?” Charlie groused.

“Baby-girl, it’s not your fault. You know how Dean gets. When he’s mad, he just needs to work it off, or walk it off. I’m sure he’ll be crawlin’ in here with his tail between his legs, beggin’ for your forgiveness.” Bobby tried to keep Charlie calm, and convince himself that Dean hadn’t done something completely stupid.

She looked up at him pleadingly, tears in her eyes.

“Let me get my keys….” he acquiesced.

Bobby drove all over Austin and out towards Dripping Springs. Last time Dean ran off, that was where the police had found him. He pulled into a little gas station on a two-lane back road. As he stood there pumping the gas he heard a bottle skitter across the pavement at the side of the building.

Bobby peeked around the corner of the building and sees a dark figure huddled against the trash cans.

“Dean? Boy is that you?” The figure curls into itself and attempts to hide among the beat-up cans and boxes.

Bobby slowly made his way to the person he dearly hoped was the boy he was out in the middle of the night searching for. Reaching out carefully he touched the boy on the shoulder. The kid was shaking, and dirty.

“Dean, son. It’s me Bobby.” He spoke softly with tenderness and love. “You had me scared, boy. I thought I lost you.”

“B-B-Boobby… ‘m s-s-o-r-ry.” Dean barely managed through chattering teeth and tears.

Bobby helps him to his feet. “Oh… Son… What have you done?” Through the dim, blinky street light, he could see the blood on the boy.

“I - I .. I didn’t… I swear… Bobby, I swear! I fell. I rolled and skidded down an embankment. I swear to God!” Dean pleaded for forgiveness, not believing that he was deserving.

“Let’s get you home and cleaned up.” Bobby pulled the filthy boy into his arms, hugging him like his own life depended on it. “You mean the world to me, boy. Family don’t end in blood, don’t start there neither. Don’t scare me like that again or I’ll kick your ass into next week. You hear me?”

Dean just nodded against Bobby’s chest, relishing in the feeling of security and love that this big, gruff man dared to show, dared to gift to a messed-up kid like him.

# # #

With no further delay, he sits up straight and looks Castiel square in the eyes.

“Thanks, Cas.

You can do … whatever ... with my journal.

I-I... I give you … um, permission.” Sniffing, he covers his eyes with his right hand.

“Shit.” He huffs, unable to hold back the flood of emotions that came with the thought of Bobby.

“Who’s Bobby, Dean?”

Shocked, Dean stares at Castiel. “Huh?”

“You just said “Bobby”.”

Shaking his head, Dean tries to fight off the threatening tears. His head hurts.

“No… He… I… can’t…” It hurts to breathe, and he can hear his own heart pounding in his ears.

“Dean,” Castiel soothes. “you have control. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Breathing heavily, unable to fight it, the dam breaks and the tears fall freely. Dean looks up. “Cas...” He sobs.

Fighting his own emotions, Castiel tilts his head gazing sadly at Dean. Opening his arms in invitation, patiently waiting for any response the other man is willing to give. To his amazement, Dean wraps himself around him and completely immerses himself in the touch. Dean holds tightly to Cas’s waist, his head pressed against the man’s shoulder.

Dean allows himself to relax in Cas’s arms, the warm, solid body is secure. As Cas reaches up to stroke Dean’s hair, he can feel Cas’s strong muscles roll and tighten. He hides his face in Cas’s neck, feeling the scratch of his day-old stubble. The feeling helps ground him.

With each inhale he is presented with the smell of cinnamon and linseed oil mix together with a slight scent of something that he can’t put his fingers on at this moment. The calming effect of Cas’s strength and smell works magic on Dean.

“...Cas…” he whispers between sobs, unable to force any more words.

It’s been so long, years, not since Charlie or Bobby, has anyone shown him actual kindness and honest respect. He has scraped by under the radar, alone, afraid since he was seventeen. People have only shown him the amount of attention that a fifty-dollar blow job or a hundred-dollar fuck would buy, nothing more. Once they were finished with the act, they were finished with him.

Castiel rubs his back with one hand, rocking gently and humming. His other hand wanders to the back of Dean’s head, fingers playing with his short, soft hair. Allowing himself to be in the moment, releasing all his tension and hoping to feed his relaxed composure through to Dean. He could get used to this... except for the extreme sadness pulsing off the man in his arms.

A shiver chases down Dean’s spine; he likes the way Castiel rakes his fingers in his hair, so gentle that it almost tickles. His own hands are locked together behind the other man’s back. He never wants to let him go.

Castiel shifts slightly and Dean feels the dampness on the man’s shoulder.

‘ _God, I cried all over him. Why do I always cry around him?’_ Grunting, he releases his death-grip and sits up, too embarrassed to look at Castiel.

“Hey, there.” Castiel grins. “Welcome back.”

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles under his breath.

“Nothing to apologize for. We’re good.”

Confused, Dean points to Castiel’s wet shoulder.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.” Castiel replies as he wipes Dean’s cheeks with his thumbs, gently cradling his face in the palms of his hands.

“No, I didn’t make that up… That happens to be a quote from Washington Irving.” He winks, dropping his hands to his own lap, realizing just how intimately he was touching the man sitting in front of him, who is staring at him with big beautiful green doe-eyes.  

“Huh?”

“A nineteenth-century author, who happens to be rather famous.” He blushes at his own thoughts about Dean chasing through his mind.

“If I’m not painting or drawing, I’m reading. I’m a total dork, Dean.”

“Nu-uh, you’re… awesome.”

“Psshhh... shut up and look through my journal.” he chuckles, nudging Dean’s shoulder with his own.

Dean happily complies, awestruck by the amazing art that Cas calls sketches.

“This is the tree we were laying under yesterday, isn’t it?” Looking over at the page, Dean nods in agreement.

“Good job. You even remembered to show the little areas of sky peeking through.” Castiel sees a green heart with gold lines, “You noticed my pendant, and you even captured the kintsugi.”

“Ken who?”

“The gold lines on the heart.” Removing his necklace, he hands it to Dean.

“That’s real gold used in mending it. The pendant was my mother's and it was shattered… a, um, a long time ago.” Clearing his throat as he fights back the memories and the nightmare that has been waking him nearly every morning lately.

“So, when I met a man who practices the art of kintsugi, I asked him to repair my mother’s pendant. The technique is an ancient Japanese practice using a lacquer to bond the broken pieces then coating the lacquer with gold for a beautiful finish. The thought is that just because something is broken, doesn’t mean it’s ruined. With love and time, all things can be mended.”

Dean is enthralled by the story.

“But, you wear it.. so, your mom’s dead, huh?

My mom’s dead, too,” he adds as he hands the necklace back to Castiel.

Nodding as he retrieves the item, gently tracing his hand along the palm of the other man’s, touching the warm, callused ridges with his fingertips.

Castiel is astonished at the matter-of-fact way Dean speaks of his own mother. His file stated that he was only four years old when his parents died. The records were very vague about his youth, all facts, and no details. Page after page of documents, all labeling him in negative ways, most showing his disorderly conduct to be the cause of the problems at school or as the reason for him being moved from one foster home to a clinic then to yet another foster home.

As Castiel read through the medical and legal files, all the information was very clinical. Labeling dean with acronyms like ADHD, ADD, ODD, PTSD, SEL… some of which Castiel had to research. There were other words used to describe Dean, words like disrespectful, argumentative, aggressive, difficult, stubborn, mentally delayed, violent, unpredictable.

There seem to be a lot of holes in the story and all of these words and situations upset Castiel and boosted his determination to help Dean.

“Do you ever miss your mom?” He cautiously asks.

Dean is finished looking at Castiel’s journal and is now working on a drawing in his own. Shaking his head in a negative reply, he keeps his focus on his paper, shading, smudging and erasing with intent.

“Do you remember her?”

Dean just shakes his head again.

“Just fosters.” Dean mumbles, still looking down he slowly slides his journal into Castiel’s view.

Looking at what was drawn on the page, Castiel’s heart skips a beat. “Dean, that’s … me.”

“I-I like your eyes. They’re…” Suddenly shy he covers his face with his hands.

“... pretty” He mumbles, muffled into his hands.

“Thank you, Dean. That’s a nice compliment. Do you want to know a secret?”

Peeking out between his fingers, “Mhmm.” He nods.

“I painted a watercolor of your eyes the other day.” Blushing, Castiel never thought he’d ever admit that to the man.

“I think your eyes are mysterious and beautiful. So, it’s okay if you think mine are pretty, too.”

Castiel is flipping through pages in Dean’s book, mainly checking to see how many new items he needs to make copies of for study. He stops suddenly at one of the new images. It was another very well done-pencil sketch with a clear message. He wonders if this was the reason that Dean was hesitant in sharing his journal.

There on the page is the image of Castiel standing, in profile, shirt unbuttoned, looking down into the face of Dean who is kneeling in front of him, his hands reaching up and holding Castiel’s pants open. The request is unmistakably permission to perform fellatio.  

Trying to figure out the best way to broach the topic, he glances over at Dean who is looking through Castiel’s book again.

“Dean?” he starts, pausing when their eyes meet. Beautiful pools of green pulling at his soul, breaking his heart with every moment of contact. Clearing his throat, he tries again.

“Dean, can we talk about some of your drawings?”

Slowly, Dean’s tongue peeks out between his lips, leaving them dampened as his mouth opens slightly. Blinking deliberately, his eyes flick to Castiel’s lips before gazing into his eyes. Dean nods as he exhales.

A wave of pure lust crashes over Castiel settling warmly in his groin.

‘ _Holy fucking shit, I’m going to hell.’_

Suddenly the room is too hot and too small. Worried that he may spontaneously combust, standing and taking a few steps toward the center of the room, away from his object of desire. Castiel takes a few deep breaths, attempting to clear his head and bring the focus back to the idea of helping this man gain the ability to function outside a mental hospital and NOT focusing on how beautiful the man would look kneeling before him sucking his brain out his cock.

 _‘Dammit, Cas! Stop! Get a fucking grip on reality!_ ’

He stands there trying to calm himself, taking deep, slow breaths as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Counting to ten, … then counting again… letting out a final breath between pursed lips. Clearing his throat, he turns to walk back to his seat. The next thing he realizes, he’s is laying on the floor on top of Dean.  

A few things happen simultaneously.

One: The orderly opens the door and walks into the room.  
    Two: Dean walks up behind Castiel.  
    Three: Castiel turns to head back to the table.  
    Four: The kiss.

“Hey guys, your time…” The orderly begins as he opens the classroom door. “What the hell?” Running to the aid of … someone… unsure of who has attacked whom. Grabbing Castiel and aggressively pulling him off the other man, the orderly shoves him away. Reaching to assist Dean off the floor, who immediately upon this touch begins yelling and growling, fighting against the man.

“No, No, No, No…” he yells, flailing his arms and legs, retching away as the orderly continues to grip his arms attempting to pull him from the floor. “Cas!”

“Stop fighting! I’m trying to help you! Wait, did you just … talk?”

“No.” Dean finally twists himself out of the orderly’s grasp, glancing up and giving Castiel a wink.

Castiel is stunned, standing dumb-founded where he was shoved, trying to figure out what happened. And fighting the urge to press against Dean again. Reaching up he touches his lips, they still tingle from the kiss. Dean kissed him. Did he really? Touching his forehead, now that is going to bruise from the collision… but his lips… ‘ _He kissed me_.’

Realizing he’s standing there with his mouth agape, Castiel snaps it shut and gulps audibly.

“We, uh… I was.. Shit, I don’t know what happened. I just turned and Dean …  I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”

“Save it. Ms. Visyak will hear about this. Looked like this one was sneaking up behind you. Was he causing trouble? You know you’re supposed to call me if he gets out of control. He’s a sly, dangerous one. I don’t understand why they let you in here alone with him.” All the while the orderly is holding Dean against the wall, his hand pressing hard on Dean’s chest.

“Dean…” Castiel starts, stepping closer, his hand automatically reaching out. Dean looks up at him for a beat, then disappears into his shell. Castiel watches the light fade from his eyes. “Dean, it’s okay.”

“Dude, back off. Your little art class is over. This one is due for his therapy session with Ms. Visyak.”

Choosing to ignore the orderly (instead of punching his fucking lights out), Castiel steps next to Dean, pushing the orderly’s hand off the other man and replacing it with his own, gentler touch. He can feel Dean’s heart racing through his thin shirt, his chest heaving in fast shallow breaths. Tilting his head, he looks up into Dean’s face, but his eyes are tightly closed. Castiel knows this is a panic attack.

“Dean, you’re okay, everything is okay. Is your head alright?” Dean stiffly nods.  

“Let’s clean up our things, shall we?” he slides his hand across the man’s chest to his arm, grazing his fingers down the arm to his hand. Gently he holds his hand, giving a tentative tug, guiding him to the table.  He helps Dean put his supplies back in his art case, noting how Dean is still breathing too fast and his eyes still dilated.

Cas talks softly about each item as he gently urges Dean to follow his example of putting the pens and pencils into the case.

“... This is a brilliant shade of orange, why don't you gather the rest of the orange tones? There, now…  Pick another color… Blue, nice. You’ve got this. No, don’t look at him. Just focus on your supplies. … See that’s better, your breathing so much calmer. …” and so Cas continues until Dean is able to finish the task on his own, he then moves to gather his own things into his messenger bag.

Turning to speak to the orderly, Castiel once again stands straight and tall, protective like a mother bear.

Dean opens his journal to a blank page, scratching a quick note he tears it out and slips it into Castiel’s messenger bag. Still in shock, he misses what Cas says to the orderly.

“... sure, dude, whatever.” The orderly finishes what he’s saying to Castiel.

“Thank you,” Castiel replies with a level of authority that tells the orderly that his opinion was not necessary.  Gathering his bag and throwing the strap over his head so it rides across his chest.

“You ready, Dean?” Cas asks, getting a surprised look from Dean.

“… What? … I’m walking with you, we’re going to see Eleanor together.”

Hugging his art case close, Dean nods and follows Castiel and the orderly out the door.

Eleanor greats them when they reach her office. “Castiel, did we have a meeting?”

“No, but I believe it’s necessary for me to be a part of this conversation.” Looking pointedly toward the orderly. “You should stay as well. Let’s clear this up now before rumors, innuendos, or slander begin.”

“I-I-I-Is there a problem?” Eleanor asks hesitantly, watching all three men. “Please, everyone come inside so we can discuss this in private.”

Once everyone is seated in the comfortable seats of Eleanor’s therapy room, she glances around the room at the men, taking in their various postures.

Dean sinks into his usual seat, his art case wedged between the chair arm and his legs, which are tucked up in the chair with him. His arms are wrapped tightly around himself, head bowed, eyes glued to his own lap. She’s seen this posture too many times before. This is typical behavior when he is upset or feeling threatened.

The orderly sits across from Castiel, glaring at the man. His face distorted in anger, his leg bouncing, and his hands grasping the chair arms tightly.

Castiel, though, is sitting casually, no sign of anger. One arm resting on the chair arm and the other on his thigh, his legs relaxed with one ankle crossed on the other knee, no tension in his shoulders, whatsoever.

“Castiel, would you like to begin? I’m very interested to find out what happened to bring the three of you to my office.”

“Thank you, Eleanor.” He drops his foot to the floor, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.  “I would like to begin by sharing that the session with Dean today went quite well, though, I prefer not to discuss any details while in the company of anyone other than you and Dean, I’m sure you understand.”

She glances at the orderly and back to Castiel, “Yes, I do, and that is acceptable. Please, continue.”

“During the final moments of our session, however, this gentleman,” he blinks deliberately and motions toward the orderly, “…walked in to witness an unfortunate accident.”

“Accident… pfft” huffs the orderly.

“Cole, please allow Mr. Novak to finish.”

“I was standing near the center of the room and had not heard Dean walk up behind me, when I turned to step back to the table where we were working and …” blushing slightly, he glances at Dean, recalling being pressed fully against the man, and how Dean’s lips felt on his own.

“... Well, I crashed right into him, causing us both to fall to the floor, I … um, I actually landed on top of the poor man. I believe that, Cole, is it?” Looking to the orderly who nods indignantly. “I believe from Cole’s perspective it may have looked more like an attack or perhaps a fight. I can only imagine what it was like to open the door and see us collide and hit the floor, together.”

Eleanor contemplates his words, giving a nod, she asks, “Was anyone injured in the tussle?”

“Dean did hit the floor rather hard, he fell straight back, I tried to stop his fall, but I was also off balance and unable to keep either of us on our feet. I asked him afterword, and he said he was okay, but with the speed at which the whole incident occurred I was unable to actually check for damage.”

Cole’s face is red with anger as he sits there bouncing his leg, impatiently waiting for his turn to speak. He knows how Ms. Visyak works and that her authority is valid. As much as he wants to speak against both men, he knows she will make him wait if he interrupts again.

“Thank you, Castiel. I’ll make sure Dean receives a good checkup.” Turning her attention to Dean, refusing to acknowledge Cole until his anger subsides.

“Dean, dear, please look at me.” He shifts he eyes up to her. “Dean, I need your full attention, please.”

Huffing and sifting in his seat, Dean raises his head to look directly at her. His agitation with the situation made very clear in his body language.

“Thank you. Now, first, are you injured? Does your head hurt?”

Shaking his head, he glances sorrowfully at Castiel.

“That’s good, but I still want you to visit the infirmary to make sure.”

Dean hates the infirmary when there he’s usually medicated and or restrained. Rarely does he go there without a fight. Bringing his hand to his mouth in his habit of chewing at his nails, he wants to tell her no, that he’s fine and doesn’t need a doctor.

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts Dean’s contemplation, “Please go for the check-up, I’d feel better knowing for sure that I didn’t hurt you.”

Dropping his hand to his lap, Dean stares at Castiel, drowning in those deep blue pools.

“Okay, Cas.” He whispers.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel and Eleanor reply in unison. Glancing at each other, both surprised and proud of Dean’s response.

“Dean, is Mr. Novak’s version of what happened accurate?”

Clearing his throat, he wants to make sure he’s understood. He wants to protect Cas. Making sure he is looking at Eleanor when he speaks,

“Yes, Ma’am.” He answers in a voice that sounds extremely loud and foreign to his ears. A voice he hasn’t dared use in months.

“Really?” Cole shouts angrily, unable to keep silent any longer. “That’s it? This trouble making, lying, headcase is going to get away with causing problems. Again?”

“Cole. That’s quite enough. Your attitude is uncalled for and unacceptable.”

“MY attitude? Lady, you have no idea. You’re not the one on the floor with these… patients… on a daily AND nightly basis. You sit here in your fancy, clean office chatting while the rest of us are dealing with their fighting, vomit, blood, and fucking jizz! How many times have one of these nutters bitten you? This jerk alone has bitten me at least three times.” He glares at Dean who is staring at him wide-eyed, hugging his legs tightly.

“Maybe, if you weren’t such a dick…” Castiel snarls, wishing he could smite this guy with his stare.

“Gentlemen,” Eleanor speaks up, putting an end to their battle before it begins.

“Cole, I’ve heard enough from you for today. You’re dismissed, for the rest of your shift. You and I will meet with Mr. Roman at the beginning of your shift tomorrow.”

Mumbling under his breath, Cole jerks up from his seat and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Eleanor, I…” Castiel begins.

“No, Castiel. It’s alright. That was not your fault. We are undergoing some ‘house cleaning’ and several of our staff have been under scrutiny.  Cole happens to be one that we have been watching closely. You may have noticed that Mike hasn’t been around this week.”

“Mike?”

“Grizzly linebacker,” Dean smirks, reveling in the realization that the guy was really gone.

“Oh. The grizzly man with the horrible attitude. Well, if you hadn’t, I was going to have him removed.” Eleanor gives him a smirk of understanding.

“Let’s put this incident behind us for now. You mentioned that the session had gone well, up until the point of the accident.”

“Yes,” He smiles at Dean.

“We even had some productive conversation. I believe that with some time, he will be willing to open up even more, and with others. Maybe more than just growling at them.” He winks at Dean, hoping for a sign of confirmation.

Shrugging, Dean gives him a small smile, then looks at his hands as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, biting his lower lip.

“Yeah, he’s a lot smarter than people, including himself, give him credit for, and he is a very skilled artist.” Castiel shares proudly.

“I believe that as well, Castiel. I do look forward to having two-sided conversations. Well, better ones that we had that first month…”

Dean glances quickly at her, recalling how angry he had been when the judge sentenced him to a mental hospital instead of jail. He began his stay here violently fighting against everything and everyone.

Well, that is until he realized he was never going to get better and that he may as well try to fade into the background… a few fights and some beatings were better than what he had lived through before coming here. Even in jail for that short time before being transferred here he’d been used by two other prisoners and a guard. So far, no one here had gone that far.

After two months of constant battles with everyone around him in this facility, he just stopped. Stopped fighting, stopped resisting, stopped talking. He eats when told, goes to group or therapy when told, takes his meds when they’re handed to him. No thinking, no fighting (mostly) and no trying to make anything different. What’s the point, this is what he deserves for being so fucked up.

Or at least that was what he thought before Castiel.

Somehow, this sandal-wearing weirdo makes him want to do better, to be better, to be human again.

Dean feels eyes on him… looking up from his shirt, he realizes that both Eleanor and Castiel are watching him. His eyes dart between the two, ‘ _What’d I miss?_ ’

Castiel chuckles. “Dean, I’m heading out. See you on Tuesday?”

Dean gives Castiel his best smile and nods.

Once Castiel has left, Eleanor clears her throat. “Shall we continue?”

Dean’s smile drops, and he brings his feet up into the chair wrapping his arms around his knees, looking anywhere but at Eleanor, he nods.

“Okay,” he says softly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with this story. There is a lot of emotional roller coaster left to ride.  
> Your feedback and kudos make my heart flutter - and give me the confidence to continue.  
> <3


	15. The Pizza Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking out toward the pool, void of people, he’s suddenly lonely. ‘Lonely? Castiel Novak does not do lonely, that’s pathetic.’ ...  
> ... More than a six pack later, Cas is passed the melancholy mood and is definitely moved on to a much lighter mood.   
> The music is loud, ZZ Top blasts out praises to Legs and Cas is singing right along at the top of his lungs. Dancing around the studio, he opens the French doors, then turns on the exterior speakers. Grabbing another beer he decides to order a pizza.   
> ...  
> After dinner, Dean goes to his room instead of the dayroom. There is too much noise in there tonight. Placing his art kit on the foot of his bed, he flops onto his stomach and begins looking through his journal. Maybe Cas is right, maybe some of his sketches aren’t completely terrible. Closing his eyes he pictures what he wants to draw next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### = Flashback, beginning and end.  
> \------- = Time jump  
>  _'Italics'_ = Thought  
>  \+ + + is POV change

Castiel sits on his couch staring at the piece of paper. “Dean must have slipped this in my bag when I wasn’t looking…” Flipping the paper over and back, just four words are on the sheet, it’s a page torn out of Dean’s journal. 

PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME

The words break his heart. In what respect did Dean mean this? Was it in the moment there with Cole? Did he mean NEVER leave him? It was definitely a cry for help, that much is obvious. Should Castiel bring this to the attention of Eleanor? It doesn’t feel like a threat. It feels like a plea. 

He won’t be going back to the Center until Tuesday. He won’t see Dean again until Tuesday. Perhaps he could use the excuse of going in to town tomorrow morning to check on Dean’s possible injuries from the tumble today. No, that will look odd as he could easily ask about that information over the phone. 

“This is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous!” 

Looking out toward the pool, void of people, he’s suddenly lonely. ‘ _ Lonely? Castiel Novak does not do lonely, that’s pathetic _ .’ 

Gabriel is traveling and won’t return for at least another week. He can’t remember the last time such a strong emptiness washed over him. Never being one to seek out crowds or parties, he usually enjoys his solitude. Anytime there’s a party on his patio, it’s usually Gabe’s doing. Not that Cas doesn’t enjoy the perks of having the “pick of the litter”. Plenty of booze and a prime selection of ass has been at his fingertips for so long now he hasn’t had to even try or invest emotionally to get laid.

It has become a rare thing that someone isn’t throwing a party of some kind in his backyard.

Tonight, though, it’s different, like something is missing. More than just the models and party atmosphere. He sits and stares out at the pool for several long moments. He grabs his address book, staring at the cover, he pauses… ‘ _ Castiel Novak does not beg for attention. _ ’

Deciding that it must be the lack of a deadline which is allowing his mind to wander and maybe the quiet is just too much this evening, he grabs his phone and pulls up a playlist. ‘ _ Technology is so cool _ .’ He has the same bluetooth sound system in the pool house as in the big-house. The sounds of  **Chevelle** roars out of the speakers as the band beacons him to  **Send the Pain Below** . “Wow…. really? That’s  _ exactly _ what I need to hear.” he huffs, leaving the song to play on because it does fit his mood at the moment. 

He takes out the composition notebook that he had purchased for this very reason, reviewing his notes from the previous session, he writes his report for all that happened today. Gabriel had teased him for using a notebook to write his entries, but Castiel prefers the feel of pen to paper. He will type it all up for a final report later. 

Once he completes the entry for the session and all that happened after the session, he grabs a beer and the stack of drawings; he’d made sure to photocopy all the new entries before leaving the center. 

Dean’s work is amazing for an amature.  Cas has only met one other person who had such natural talent. A young boy, Ben, about 9 years old, he was in one of Castiel’s few children’s classes. The boy was polite, calm, quiet, and if he was sitting still, he was sketching. Castiel had wanted to take him on as an apprentice, to assist in building the boys’ skill and prepare him for art school. Unfortunately, Ben’s future was cut short when he and his mother were driving home from art class one Saturday.  A man had been driving drunk and ran a red light, careening into their car and killing them both on impact. The drunk driver received a broken arm and time in prison. 

Almost the exact thing that had happened to Castiel’s own family, except Castiel lived. 

This train of thought gives him pause. A shiver runs through him.

“FUCK!” He refuses to let any ghost enter his mind while he is awake and can shut them down. He grabs another beer and sits on the studio floor, spreading the papers out all around him.

+    +    +

After dinner, Dean goes to his room instead of the dayroom. There is too much noise in there tonight. Placing his art kit on the foot of his bed, he flops onto his stomach and begins looking through his journal. Maybe Cas is right, maybe some of his sketches aren’t completely terrible. Closing his eyes he pictures what he wants to draw next. 

Memories of the Ranch creep in, he recalls the crazy chickens and the large, beautiful horses… Horses.  Grabbing a pencil he begins to sketch out a horse head, focusing to remember the details of the face. Remembering how it felt to groom them, all the muscles and mane, the soft velvet nose and warm ears twitching against the flies. 

He’s still drawing horses at different angles when the orderly calls for lights out.

Putting his supplies away, he sits on his bed in the dark. The day’s events playing out in his mind. The art session, the meeting with Eleanor. ‘ _ Linebacker is gone. _ ’ smiling he lays back on the bed, his head a the foot and feet on his pillow. ‘ _ Cole might be gone soon, too _ .’ Two of the meanest orderlies he’s ever dealt with. He has had plenty of run-ins with them both this past year. ‘ _ Good riddance _ .’ Breathing deep, in and out, he tries to clear his mind.

He allows himself to relax, breathing the way he’s been taught. Images of the art session and of Cas wash gently across his mind. He actually talked to Cas today, it was a good time… until Cas saw that one stupid drawing. Cas didn’t act like he was upset with Dean, more like he was trying to figure out his own thoughts and what words to use, like he’s done before. Dean knows very well how hard it is to choose the right words. Cas even seemed to like the image of Dean basically pleading to suck him. 

Dean didn’t mean to scare him when he walked up behind him, he wasn’t even trying to be quiet. But when Cas turned and they collided, Dean could tell Cas tried to keep him from falling. ‘ _ Damn meds mess with my equilibrium so bad. _ ’ As Dean listed backwards, he had grabbed ahold of Cas’s arm, pulling him over with him, on top of him. Cas pressed against him like that, touching practically feet to face, was scary and heavy and … amazing. Dean could feel Cas’s heart pounding, his muscles tighten and move like a wave rolling over him. Their foreheads had hit together right before they went to the floor.

Dean reaches up and presses his forehead then turns his head and presses at the small lump on the back of his head from the contact with the floor. Not too bad, his tailbone hurts a bit worse though. Wetting his lips, he remembers what else happened.

Jolting straight up, he jumps off the bed. “I kissed him.” Pacing around his dark room, touching his fingers to his lips, “I really kissed him.” Stepping up, he stands on his bed. “I think he kissed me back.”

Jumping on his bed like a kid, he hollers, “WOOOO! He kissed me!” Bouncing and yelling, stomping and dancing on his matress, “YES, YES, YES! WOOO!”

+    +    +

More than a six pack later, Cas is passed the melancholy mood and is definitely moved on to a much lighter mood. 

The music is loud,  **ZZ Top** blasts out praises to  **Legs** and Cas is singing right along at the top of his lungs. Dancing around the studio, he opens the French doors, then turns on the exterior speakers. Grabbing another beer he decides to order a pizza. 

Tossing his phone on the table near the pool, he turns on the pool lights,  **Joan Jett** rocks his world as her music explodes from the speakers. Kicking off his shoes and stripping out of his shirt, he dances barefoot on the patio. 

_______________

The pizza guy knows the drill and brings the delivery around to the patio. He’s used to loud parties and lots of people hanging around when Gabriel orders pizza. He always grabs these orders for the tips and tits, normally there are lots of hot models naked or nearly naked lounging and playing in the pool. 

**Aerosmith** bids him to  **Walk This Way** , and he rounds the corner past the roses but he only sees one person dancing around the pool. One barefoot, shirtless, owner of the whole place, gorgeous, sexy man. “Daaamn.” All the times he’s delivered here, he’s never seen Castiel cutting loose like this, he’s usually much more reserved, Gabriel is typically the one working the crowd…. but there is no crowd tonight. 

Castiel spins around and almost slams into the man. 

“FUCK!” Cas yells, startled at someone being there. 

“That’s twice today! Damn! I plowed right-inta-ya ‘n ‘bout banged ya on-tha floor.” He laughs as he slurs and stumbles a bit trying to regain his balance, without realizing what his words might mean to someone else. “I didn’ ‘spect you ta come so soon.” 

“Forty-five minutes ain’t soon, I was gonna apologize for running late.” The man replies, laughing after figuring out what Castiel meant by what he said and the meaning wasn’t what it sounded like. 

All that beer has affected him, Castiel sways, listing a bit to one side, grinning as he listens to the man explain about the kitchen help goofing off and a wreck on his route, and cops and a fire truck.

“Ooo… Firemen.” Castiel grins, slurring and wiggling his eyebrows, because that’s all he retained from the whole explanation. 

“Dude, you’re wasted.” Laughs the guy.

Focusing on the man’s name tag, Castiel doesn’t want to be an ass, again. 

“Yup… Jay… I am. Wannabeer?” His base Texas accent creeps in to make itself known, like it always does when he gets good and drunk. 

“Ohh.. but yer drivin’” he pouts, slapping a hand on Jay’s chest. 

“You’re my last delivery tonight.” Jay smirks and places the pizza on the table, grabbing a beer from the cooler on the ground. 

Cas gives the guy his full, wobbly, attention when he bends over to get his beer. 

“It’s hot.” He announces as he fumbles with his jeans. Stripping down to his orange boxer-briefs, he kicks off his jeans and belly flops into the pool. 

“Jesus, man!” calls Jay, “You okay?”

Castiel breaches the water, shaking his head, raining droplets all around him. Looking up at Jay, he shoots a fountain of water from his mouth right at him. 

“Yer clothes er gonna git wet.” He’s laughing so hard he can hardly speak. 

Jay pulls his shirt over his over his head, causing his hair to stand out in all directions, tossing it into the chair as he toes off his sneakers. 

“I’ve always wanted to take a dip in your pool.” he teases as he makes a show of unzipping his jeans. Tossing them on the chair with his shirt, he takes two large steps and dives in over Castiel’s head. 

Castiel watches every move the man makes. His light sandy hair falling in his face when he bends to take his socks off. Broad shoulders flexing with every move. ‘ _ He’s thick in all the right places _ .’ Castiel’s head spins a bit as he tries to keep his balance in the chest deep water while keeping his eyes on the man stripping in front of him. One hand on the edge of the pool he turns as he watches Jay dive in, right above his head.

Jay splashes as he comes up right in front of Castiel. Pushing his wet hair back then wiping a hand down his face, opening his eyes to look directly into Castiel’s. “Feels great.” he grins.

“Green…” Castiel gasps, “...Freckles.”

“Um, green freckles? How high are you? Shit dude, did you take something?”

Shaking his head to clear away the image of Dean. ‘ _ This isn’t Dean, this is Jay. _ ’ Squeezing his eyes shut tight then repoening them to check if he still looks like Dean. 

“No, I mean… You have green eyes and freckles.” Shit, he really resembles Dean, but his green eyes are an icy green, so light but still beautiful. 

“So... green eyes… is that a turn off? or…” he winks “...a turn on?”

Castiel glances from those icy green eyes to his lips, which are not as full as Dean’s…’ _ Idiot, leave Dean out of this. Jay is hot as fuck and right here. _ ’ He wraps his hand around the back of Jay’s neck, pulling him close, kissing him hard, sloppy, and needy. Walking them back against the wall of the pool, Castiel presses himself against Jay, one hand in his hair and the other on the small of his back. Castiel is drunk and uncoordinated and Jay is all hands as they make out in the pool.

Castiel’s stomach clinches and growls, unheard through the water but angry enough to remind him that there’s untouched pizza on the table. He nibbles Jay’s ear lobe and whispers. “I’m starving.”

Pushing off the man, he swims to the ladder, climbing out and plopping, undignified, on an empty chair by the table. Grabbing a slice, he takes a huge bite.  With his mouth full of pizza, he smiles at the other man as he climbs out of the pool, his cock hard and straining against his wet, white briefs. 

“Niiice.” Castiel lifts one eyebrow at the man, staring at the outline of his dick through the now see-through underwear. 

“Eat some of this.” He gestures at the pizza as he grabs a second slice. 

“Really, dude, we were just getting to the good part, you gotta eat right now?”

“I told ya, I’m starvin. I ain't had anything but beer since... shit, since I ferget.” Taking a swig of the beer on the table.

“That was mine.” 

“So. Get another.”

Jay turns to reach over to the cooler. 

“Yeah, bend over ‘n get one from waaay … down... in there.” Castiel teases, giving himself the giggles, to the point he sprays his beer.

Laughing, Jay bends over, sticking his ass in the air. “Like this?” He looks back over his shoulder at Cas, wiggling his eyebrows and wagging his ass. 

Reaching across the small gap between them, Castiel runs his hand up the man’s thigh to his ass. “Jus’ like that...rawr, baby.” he teases. 

Standing, using the man’s ass for support because his head spins from jumping up so fast, he moves to press his hips against the tight, round ass, thin wet cotton the only thing between them. Sliding his hands along Jay’s sides and up to his shoulders, he leans over pressing his chest against the man’s warm back. Grinding against him, trying to bring his dick up to speed with the situation. 

Looking down into the ice chest, Castiel realizes how much he’s had to drink, no wonder little Cas is having a difficult time waking up. “Shit, m’dicksdrunk.” he slurs as he lays his forehead between the man’s shoulder blades. 

Jay barks out a laugh, slowly standing and turning to face Cas, wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing his stiff cock against Cas’s hips. “Well, mine ain’t” 

“Nope, yer dick’s happy ta be a’parta’ this lil party.” Cas giggles. Beer always seems to give him the giggles, unlike vodka which will either make him super horny or knock his ass out… depending on how much he drinks. 

Castiel guides Jay back to the edge of the pool. “Take them tighty-whities off an sit yer ass on the edge.” Stepping back he jumps gracelessly into the water, swimming back to the edge and coming up right between Jay’s knees.

Taking the man’s stiff cock in his hand he strokes him until he is fully hard. Looking up into the man’s icy green eyes he imagines a different set of green eyes. Tonguing the tip then lapping at the length like he’s savoring an ice cream cone. Staring up at the man, he wraps his lips tightly and sinks deep, squeezing his hand around the base.

‘ _ God, I wish this was Dean. _ ’ This thought doesn’t even faze him, in his drunken state he has resigned to the desire. If he can’t have Dean, his doppelganger will do for now. 

Bobbing his head as he sucks and licks to his heart’s content. Careful not to take him in too deep, gagging with a stomach full of beer and pizza isn’t a good idea anytime and especially with someone’s cock in your mouth. 

Giving head is not his favorite activity, but his own dick is about thirteen beers below sea level and doesn’t want to come out to play right now.  Little Cas is just relaxed and chubby as Castiel sucks and massages the other man towards his climax. He imagines what this would be like with Dean.

The man above him moans, threading his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “Dude, your tongue is fuck’n magic.” Leaning back on his hands, Jay tenses his ass and thrusts up in rhythm with Castiel’s strokes. 

Urged on by Dean - no Jay’s moans and positive reactions, Castiel grips him tightly, moving his other hand to the man’s balls, and gives himself over fully to mouth-fucking this sweet cock. Humming a low moan as he pictures his mouth on Dean’s cock, his hand on Dean’s balls. 

“I’m… oh, God..” Jay warns.

Pulling off with a wet slurp, he continues to jack him as Jay cries out above him. White lines of hot cum hit Castiel on the shoulder and chest. 

‘ _ I bet Dean is beautiful when he orgasms _ .’ is the only thought that is coherent to Castiel. 

Jay carefully lowers himself into the water between the wall and Castiel. Kissing him fully on the mouth and pulling him close for a tight hug.

Castiel lingers in the kiss recalling how soft and full Dean’s lips felt.

“That was great. Best tip ever.” Jay smirks and winks at Castiel, laughing and kissing him again. 

Castiel shoves him off, splashing him and laughing. “You need to crash here or you okay to drive?”

“I’m good. Besides, I’ve heard you like your privacy, I respect that.”

‘ _ He’s so hot, and funny, and nice… _ ’ Castiel revels in the thought of another, less drunk, rendezvous with that tight ass.  

“Thanks, D - Jay.” Giving him a last chaste kiss.

“Ohh, no. Thank you, Castiel.” Cradling Castiel’s jaw he rubs his thumb over his cheek. “Best Thursday night I’ve had in a while.” turning he pulls himself out of the pool.

Castiel gets out with him, jogging in to the pool house to grab them both a towel. He strips out of his underwear and wraps his towel around his waist. 

Watching as Jay dresses and leaves, he nabbs one last kiss good-night. 

Going inside, he turns off the music and lights. He flops down on his bed, still naked with a towel wrapped around his waist, his head swimming with the high of the alcohol and sex. 

Replaying his recent activities, his mind keeps comparing Jay to Dean. They look so much alike they could be related. Jay’s hair is lighter, he has thinner lips and thicker hips. His eyes are a different shade of green, not empty like Lisa’s eyes, but not nearly as full of emotion and mystery as Dean’s. 

_ ‘What  the fuck?’  _ He’s never been one to compare lovers _ … ‘Wait. Dean isn’t even…’ _

Giving this some more thought, he realizes that none of his recent partners have been exactly satisfying, sure the sex has been fun and even acrobatic with that one chick from the Cirque du Soleil troupe… but he still felt empty the afterward. (Including the day his whole body was too sore for his usual run after the circus girl.)

Closing his eyes, he recalls Dean looking up at him as they lay on the floor. Their bodies pressed together. Dean’s heart pounding, his breath on Cas’s face. Dean’s lips, so soft, so hot...

“Oh… NOW you wake up?” He scorns his cock as it twitches with arousal. “Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for staying with me through this little adventure. <3 <3 <3  
> Strap in... the next chapter is a doozy!


	16. The Demon in the Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumping on his bed like a kid, he hollers, “WOOOO! He kissed me!” Bouncing and yelling, stomping and dancing on his mattress, “YES, YES, YES! WOOO!”...  
> The door to Dean’s room swings open, he freezes, still standing on his bed. Staring wide-eyed and mouth flapping wordlessly as two orderlies come barreling into his room...  
> ...  
> It’s still pre-dawn and Castiel is startled awake by his phone ringing at this unholy hour.  
> “Castiel, I’m so sorry to call you so late, or early.”  
> “Eleanor?”  
> “Castiel, it’s Dean.” She pauses, a little too long for his liking. Her tone is a little too clinical, but he can still hear the concern in her voice. There is shouting in the background and too much noise and activity at the clinic for this time of morning.  
> “Shit, What?! Is he okay? What happened?” Now completely awake...  
> “Can you come to the clinic? Now..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What really happened to cause Dean to have such extreme triggers? 
> 
> Additional warnings:  
> Memories of underage rape and child abuse, major panic attack triggered by memories

When the door to Dean’s room swings open, he freezes, still standing on his bed. His excitement over his shared kiss with Cas had alerted the staff.  He is staring wide eyed and his mouth is flapping wordlessly as two orderlies come barreling into his room. One man stands over six feet tall and his breathing is heavy, as though he’d been running. The other, an older man, is the person who distributes the evening medications. Dean has often growled at the older man in moments of aggravation, and he feels a little bad about that because the man was always very kind to everyone. 

“No - No… I’m good guys!” he yells, holding his hands up in submission and carefully climbing down off his bed. His eyes are drawn to the restraints dangling from tall man’s hand. “I’ll stop! See…,” he pleads as he sits on the edge of the bed. “I-I’ll… I’ll be good.” he cautiously lays his head on the pillow, drawing his legs up in a fetal position. “Please, I’ll be good.” His voice is losing its volume and confidence from before. 

The two men look at each other, confused by Dean’s actions. 

“One more disturbance tonight and you get these.” Threatens the large orderly as he shakes the restraints in Dean’s face. 

“No… please… I’ll be good.”  Dean repeats, his voice small and shaking.

The older man tugs at the sleeve of the taller man, bidding him to leave. Turning to leave, the older man switches off the overhead light and closes the door. They share a look of concern as they walk back down the hall.

“Dude, I’m so glad he calmed down. The last time I had to put that guy in restraints, he broke a nurses arm, bit Cole, and broke my nose. He does NOT like being restrained. He goes absolutely wild during the process, once he’s secured though, he goes completely docile and basically unresponsive. It’s so weird. I’m shocked that he chilled out like that this time, it seems too easy. I’ve never seen him just stop freaking out, he usually escalates.”

The older man pauses, looking back toward Dean’s door. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him talk. He usually growls at me. This time it sort of feels like we’re ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’. I can’t help but worry.”

Plopping down on the creaky desk chair at the nurses’ station, the tall orderly checks the monitors and call lights. 

“Yeah, well, he has been acting different ever since Ms. Visyak hired that art teacher, maybe that guy can tame the beast. Just be sure to keep your eyes open, he’s tricky.”

“Yeah, alright. I’m gonna go back to finish my rounds.” Shaking his radio toward the other man, “Call me if you get scared again.” Laughing, he walks away from the nurses’ station. The two orderlies settle back into their overnight routines, both hoping that the rest of the night is calm, but knowing full well that things are never calm for long in this place. 

Dean lies on his bed, arms wrapped tight around his knees, “I’ll be good…” He whispers to the empty room. Shadows catch his line of sight, there’s a branch scrapping at his window. 

‘ _ Is it gonna storm? _ ’ Fear grips him as he hears a rumble in the distance. 

‘ _ Was that thunder? _ ’ He really hates thunderstorms, especially at night, especially when he’s alone. 

# # # 

Hands bound over his head and attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling, ankles cuffed to a spreader bar, the position made his legs shake. The teen stood, alone, in the middle of the dark basement room. The room was soundproof with padded rubber mats covering the entire floor and sparsely decorated with only a chest of drawers, a large sturdy chair, and a mattress on the floor. Dean hated this room. Lightning flashed through the small window, throwing shadows across the room.

‘ _ Jesus, what did I do in my life to ultimately deserve being tied to the fuckin’ ceiling?’ _  He thought as he surveyed his current predicament.

This messy situation began a few months ago when the cops had picked him up on the streets in Lawrence, he was told that he would be placed in a youth center in Kansas City. Well, he was, for one night. Then he was processed out to yet another foster. How this guy was on the approved list with Child Protection Services was beyond belief.  The man happened to be the brother of an influential judge, and was married to the mayor's sister. Dean had overheard a couple of cops talking about the fact that the wife died of cancer a few years ago, but the man remained on the foster care list.

Dean desperately needed to break free from this situation and escape from his corrupt foster parent. Living on the street was better than this, at least he could run and hide out there. He looks up at his restraint, trying once again to wriggle his hands free, he strained on tip toes to add a little slack to the length of the rope. It’s just not enough, he really wished he could hit a growth spurt soon, at fifteen, he’s still shorter than his classmates. His fingers were numb and his wrists chafed from being restrained above his head so long. This wasn’t the first time he had been restrained, nor was it the first time he’d been in handcuffs, but the cops never left them on so long or tied him up by the cuffs. His efforts to escape combined with the prolonged pull against the metal of the cuffs had cut him and the blood was dripping down his arms. 

He gave up on his escape and hung his head in exhaustion. The cuffs on his wrists and ankles had caused quite a lot of pain, but that wasn’t the only thing causing him discomfort. 

He was warned that this was only the first stage of his punishment. There was more to come once the man returned. 

The problem started with dinner, Dean was expected to have the meal ready and the table precisely set at six-fifteen. This was nothing out of the usual routine, but he had never cooked lamb and asparagus before. Personally, he thought the weird little vegetable looked like alien dicks. But he tried, and hoped the man would enjoy his dinner. He was never that lucky. One look at the charred cuts of meat and the limp vegetables was all it took for the man to explode. Food and dishes crashed against the wall, the man’s open hand slapped across Dean’s face so hard that he fell out of his chair. 

Sprawled on the floor, he looked up at the tall, thin man, “I-I’m sorry.” he whimpered, his face stung, hot and throbbing, from the contact of the man’s hand. His eyes watered without his consent, he blinked back the unwelcome tears. 

“On your knees, boy.” The man barked in his raspy, nasally voice. 

Dean sat up on his knees, the way he had been trained from the day he arrived in this house; with his butt on his heels, his hands placed on his thighs, palms up, back straight and head bowed. 

“Mnnn… My pretty little submissive.” The man purred. Dean’s skin crawled. 

“You will now go undress and begin your punishment by cleaning up this trash you tried to feed me. Then you will go downstairs and wait.”

‘ _ Oh, fuck _ .’ Dean gulped. 

“Y-yes, s-sir.” He was fighting back the urge to cry. Crying only made things worse in this house.

That was hours ago. The man had come down and restrained him shortly after he’d gone to the basement. Then he left again, no explanation. 

Dean gave up on trying to free himself, he couldn’t use his numb fingers properly anyway. He knew that he’d be freed once it was all over, he was always released, eventually. But this was the longest he’d ever been left alone, waiting. 

The thunder shook the window and he felt the tremor of the concussive sound. The storm was right on top of him now. Lightning flashed brightly and the rain slammed loudly against the side of the house as the wind blew furiously.

Another flash and crash exploded from the storm outside and the door to the basement swung open. Dean looked up to see the silhouetted figure standing in the open doorway, light flooding the small room. He could see the outline of the strap folded double in his hand. 

A shiver ran through his whole body. ‘ _ This is gonna hurt. _ ’ 

Trying his best to stay calm, he watched the man stomp deliberately down the stairs, the strap popping across his palm. 

Thunder crashed, lightning flashed, SLAP went the strap. Another stomp down, another threatening strike of the strap. The man finally reached the bottom step, now only a few feet away.

“I’m sorry…” Dean pleaded. “Please, I’ll be good.”

The man smirked at thim, “Yes, boy. You will be good.”

He grabbed the boy’s hair jerking his head back. 

“You will be very good.” 

He blew his whisky soaked breath in Dean’s face and his nasally voice growled out a sound. It was a combination that turned the boy’s stomach. Reaching around behind the naked boy, he roughly tapped his fingers against the plug he’d inserted before leaving.

Dean absolutely hated that plug, every time he moved the thing pressed and rubbed against his prostate. He has spent the past few hours in absolute fear and pain while his dick was hat half mast because of the stimulation. His heart was racing and the arousal in the pit of his stomach made him want to puke.  

“Mnnn, yes, very good indeed.”

The rumble of the thunder echoed through the room, low and vibrating. The haunting base contrasted with the high pitch pop of the strap as it struck Dean’s ass.  Each strike pushed the plug against his prostate, causing his dick to jump against his will. The bile in his stomach roiled and threatened. 

He screamed in spite of trying so hard to be somewhere else in his mind. The sharp line of glowing pain across his ass never had any reprieve between strikes. Tears streamed down his face.  

“AAAAA! Alistair! Please, NO!” 

# # #

Dean is puking before he’s even fully awake. Shaking, covered in his own sick, one hand grasping at his face and the other flailing in the air in search of something, anything to help. 

His door swings open and he tries to focus, his eyes blurred with tears, he can only make out the silhouetted figure of a tall man standing in the back lit doorway. 

Plastering himself against the wall in the corner...he screams. 

  * \+   +



It’s still pre-dawn and Castiel is startled awake by his phone ringing at this unholy hour.  

“Castiel, I’m so sorry to call you so late, or early.”

“Eleanor?” He rubs his eyes, trying to focus on the clock. ‘ _ Damn _ ,’ two hours since he last looked at the time before he passed out. 

“Castiel, it’s Dean.” She pauses, a little too long for his liking. Her tone is a little to clinical, but he can still hear the concern in her voice. There is shouting in the background and too much noise and activity at the clinic for this time of morning.

“Shit, What?! Is he okay? What happened?” Now completely awake, he fumbles around for clean underwear, realizing he fell asleep naked after his drunken escapade with the pizza guy. 

“Can you come to the clinic? Now. He’s been calling out for you and won’t let anyone else near him.” 

“Oh, god. Yes. Yes, I’m …. Forty-five minutes, or less if I push it.”

“I’ll meet you at the front door.”

Thirty-five minutes later, Castiel  jerks his truck into the entrance of the parking lot, bounding over the speed bumps causing his old truck to rattle and shake like it’s going to fall apart. He skids to an abrupt halt barely missing slamming into the columns of the covered walkway in front of the Lady Bird Center.  

A cop pulls in right behind him, siren blaring and lights flashing, bouncing off the buildings and causing the rain to sparkle like blue glitter. 

Castiel hands the man his wallet, insurance, and registration. “Talk to my manager, Gabriel Milton, he’s … here...” he hands over his phone. 

“I’ll pay all the fines, but I must get inside, there’s a medical emergency.” Running up to the building, leaving the cop standing in the rain and Gabriel yelling through the tinny speaker of his phone. 

“Eleanor!” he yells, banging on the door. She is just entering the lobby and runs over to let him in. “Where is he?” 

“Come with me.” She leads him upstairs to Dean’s room. 

“He must have had a terrible nightmare. Several of the staff, myself included, have tried different methods to calm him. Nothing has worked. Castiel, he knocked out one of the orderlies who was attempting to restrain him so that the nurse could give him a sedative injection. The nurse dropped the syringe in the struggle and Dean grabbed it”

“Dear God. What are you expecting from me?” He asks, panicking at this whole situation.

“As I mentioned on the phone, he has been asking for you. That’s all he has said, ‘Where’s Cas?’ over and over. Other than that he has been growling and using the syringe as a defensive weapon. I wanted to at least try having you talk to him before we took the next step.”

“Next step?” Castiel was worried, because that sounded ominus. 

“Sedation, restraint and isolation from the other patients. He would have twenty-four-hour supervision and be kept in a sedated state. We cannot have violent patients interacting with the others. If he doesn’t respond to treatment, and remains violent, he will be sent to a high-security mental hospital.”

“But, he was doing so well… wasn’t he?”

Reaching Dean’s room, Castiel notices blood on the floor and door frame. 

“He broke an orderly’s nose.” She states clinically. Stepping past the two security guards who are standing inside the door.  

“Dean? It’s Eleanor.” The sound Dean makes frightens Castiel, it sounds like a wounded animal that has been cornered. 

“Dean, honey, I’ve brought Castiel.”

Breathing fast and shallow, he stills, tilting his head to first focus on the woman then passed her, looking for Cas.

Castiel steps in front of the woman. “Dean. I’m here.” 

Dean whines, eyes darting around the room, obviously looking for an escape but the only door is blocked. 

“Dean, look at me.” Dean looks directly, deeply into his eyes, the fear and pleading in them grip Castiel. He takes a few hesitant steps toward the agitated and confused man. He stops an arm’s length from Dean. Slowly reaching out, he gently grazes his fingertips down the man’s forearm to his hand. 

“Release your fist, Dean.” 

Dean’s eyes focus steadily on Castiel’s. He hasn’t moved an inch since Castiel entered the room. 

Without looking away, Castiel taps his hand again, “Dean. Release.” He speaks in a calm, firm tone, his voice low and sure. Everything he’s not feeling in this moment.

Dean’s hand relaxes and Cas takes the syringe, throwing it to the floor behind him, toward the door.

“You’re safe, Dean. I’m here.” He reaches his hand back to Dean’s, tenderly weaving his fingers with the other man’s. 

“I’m here.” He repeats softly.

Blinking a few times, Dean looks at Castiel as if he just noticed his presence, which is very likely in this situation.

“Cas?” 

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas wakes up too warm. The room is lit but not artificially bright, as the light pours in from the window. It seems to be late afternoon by the angle of the shadows. Attempting to sit up, he realizes that he is entangled with two strong arms and a heavy leg lying across him. The hot, even breath of the sleeping body next to him tickles his neck. 

Everything comes flooding back, the recent activities, the fear, excitement, anger, noise, blood… all of it crashes through his memory as he looks at the man lying next to him.

Wriggling one arm loose, he reaches over and gently moves the man’s bangs off his face. Dean is the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes on. 

At this moment, he’s really wishing that he’d shed his overshirt and shoes before lying down to help soothe this sleeping beauty. He can feel the sweat on the back of his neck and the small of his back. Lying next to this man is like hugging a wood burning stove. 

About twelve hours ago, he had walked in on a scene that he thought only happened in the movies. Dean was growling and practically howling in his cries, he had blood on his hands, arms, face and shirt. He looked as though he had been through battle. In his hand was a syringe which he was using as a defensive weapon. No one had been able to get near him without a fight and he had injured a couple of the staff. 

Cas had been terrified to enter the room, but when Dean hesitated upon hearing that Cas had arrived, he took a deep breath and stepped in front of Eleanor, still nervous as he approached the man. The way that Dean had gone from wild animal to frightened child in a manner of minutes after his focus had finally zeroed in on Cas was the most incredible transformation Cas had ever had the opportunity to witness. In a matter of minutes Dean had gone from a wild animal to a frightened child. When Dean began to regain his lucidity and his eyes zeroed in on Cas, Castiel witnessed the most incredible transformation of his life. It was equivalent to an old Lon Chaney werewolf movie -  watching the frightening, terrible monster change into the frightened, harmless man. 

The next few hours, Dean clung to Cas, hiding behind him but still growling when any staff member moved too close. The only thing he would say was “Cas? You real? You really here?” 

Dean wouldn’t even allow the nurse to tend to his wounds. Cas had done his best to clean away the blood and help him into a new t-shirt. The gash on his forehead was from headbutting the orderly, then lunging again, missing and crashing into the door frame. It was unbelievable how, in his amplified state of anxiety and adrenaline, Dean had not been fazed by the head trauma; he just blinked as the blood dripped past his eyes. Cas knew he’d likely have a pounding headache later. 

Dean stirs, but doesn’t wake. The medicine Cas had finally been able to get him to take was doing its job. With his slight movement, though, Cas is able to lift the man’s arm off his own waist, tucking it against Dean’s warm chest.  His bladder is threatening to burst, he slips out from under the other man’s leg, moving slowly so we doesn’t wake Dean and so he doesn’t piss himself. 

The bathroom is sparse, there isn’t even a door - it’s been removed. There are no cabinets or towel racks. It’s only a half bath, no shower, just a wall-mounted sink and toilet. After relieving himself, he stands at the sink to wash his hands and looks over the extremely minimal toiletries. Toothbrush and toothpaste in a plastic mug, a hair brush with the handle broken off, a face cloth and hand towel draped over the edge of the sink. That’s it, the sum of the man’s personal toiletries. Even the toilet paper is sitting on the edge of the sink, reachable from the toilet. He could see where the roll holder and towel racks had been removed from the wall. 

A twinge of fear causes the hair on the back of his neck to twitch and give him a shiver. Is this man so dangerous that he isn’t even allowed a toilet-roll holder? Splashing his face with cold water, he shakes off the feeling. 

Exiting the small bathroom, he takes a moment to survey the man’s living quarters; his whole life is in this room. 

Cas pauses to take off his shoes, leaving them next to the bathroom doorway. Quietly, he walks, sock-footed, over to the chest of drawers. The only things taking up space on the top are Cas’s, his phone, wallet, and keys are there, laying on top of his messenger bag. He only vaguely remembers directing someone to lay it all somewhere and to back away from Dean, because he had finally gotten Dean to a point of calm where the man was no longer trembling. 

Continuing his exploration, he gives a quick glance to make sure Dean is still asleep. Grinning at the site of him in such a peaceful state, he hears a little snore as the man sleeps, undisturbed by nightmarish visions. 

Giving the top drawer a tentative pull, to make sure it isn’t going to squeak, he opens the drawer to see what he can learn about the man. All that is in the top drawer is his art kit and some loose papers. Cas peeks at the papers, they are all drawings and sketches, a few are colored and some painted with tempera or watercolor.  Cas wants to study the pages, but his gut instinct tells him to wait. The middle and bottom drawers contain clothes, a few pair of socks, some underwear, three pair of sweatpants, five white t-shirts, two sets of scrubs and a well-worn hoodie. Everything is neatly folded and arranged. 

Moving to the center of the room, Cas makes a slow 360º turn, taking in the entirety of the space. He sees Dean’s worn-out slip-on, canvas sneakers which he’s pretty sure were once white. There is no art on the walls, no curtains on the window. The overhead light is an industrial fluorescent which is recessed in the ceiling. There is no desk or chair in the room, only the bed and chest of drawers. An idea crosses Cas’s mind and he gives the chest a tug; just as he thought, the furniture is mounted to the wall. ‘ _ Are all the rooms like this? Or only people like Dean, who they fear may hurt themself or others. Has he given them cause to secure him in such an empty, sterile environment?’   _

With no place other than the bed to sit, Cas slides down the wall opposite the bed, sitting on the floor he watches Dean sleep. The sun shining through the window, light and shadow play across Dean’s face. It only takes a moment for Cas to get up and grab his sketchbook and a pencil case. How could he sit there and NOT draw such a beautiful sight. 

Cas worked on his drawing while Dean slept on. Looking up to check his subject, he sees that Dean’s eyes are open as he lays quietly, watching Cas draw. Cas smiles a the man, making a few slight adjustments to his sketch, he completes the image with the eyes open instead of closed in sleep. 

“Cas…” Dean’s voice is scratchy and dry, “you creep’n on me?” He still sounds drunk with sleep. 

“Just watching you sleep.” 

Dean coughs, choking as he tries to speak again, Cas jumps up and gets him some water using the mug in the bathroom. Dean gulps down the entire contents of the mug. Clearing his throat, he licks his dry lips and looks up at Cas. “Thanks, Cas.”

“How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”

“Like shit.” Reaching up he tests his fingers on his swollen forehead, “ssss..” He hisses when he presses the wound.

“Don’t… You’re gonna make it bleed again if you mess with it. I did my best with the butterflies but you’ll probably need stitches.” Cas grimaces as he watches Dean test his other sore muscles and bruises. 

“I um…”      “Dean…” They both start at the same time.

“You go ahead, Dean.”

“Will you come sit by me?” He questions softly. 

“Of course, Dean.” Cas fights the urge to run across the room and wrap his arms around the other man, never to let him go. 

When Cas sits on his bed, Dean curls right up against him, laying his head on Cas’s shoulder. Cas hesitates as he brings his arm up, but Dean snuggles closer, so Cas wraps his arm across Dean’s shoulders, burying his hand in the man’s hair. The position is reminiscent of the sketch Cas drew during the first art class. He wants… no, needs to comfort and protect this man. Sitting there with the man feels … right. 

“Cas, I - I’m sorry. I hurt someone, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, you did. But not too bad, I don’t think. M-maybe a broken nose. Do you remember what happened?”

Nodding, Dean brings his hand to his mouth in his nervous habit of chewing his fingernails. “Mhmm, kinda.”

“What do you mean by “kinda”?”

“It... I … I had a bad dream.”

“You had a nightmare.”

“Yea, nightmare, but it felt so real. He had the strap… no…no...” He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lower lip in concentration, “ngh, Not a strap was it?… it was hospital restraints… Not  _ him _ ...but the thunder...”

Cas stays quiet, listening, watching, rubbing his fingers gently on Dean’s bicep under the hem of his shirt sleeve. 

“The orderly had restraints… ‘cuz  _ he _ wasn’t here;  _ he _ ’s far away.” Sounding like he is trying to convince himself of the reality of the situation. 

Unable to hold his tongue, Cas just HAS to know who did something so horrific to the man he was holding that the memory could send Dean into such a terrified and altered state of mind. “Who? Who’s far away?”

“Sir.” Dean whispers, reaching around Cas’s waist and gripping him tightly, eyes darting toward the door as though speaking the word would bring the man. 

“I have an idea.” Cas pats Dean’s arm, “Let me up a sec, I’ll be right back, I’m just going to your chest of drawers.” Dean blinks in confusion but releases his grip. 

Hopping up, Cas gets Dean’s art case and the loose papers from the top drawer. “Sorry, I got nosey when I woke up and I looked through your things.” Dean stares at him, no anger or sign of annoyance on his face, simply watching and waiting to see what Cas has in mind. 

“Okay. You’ve done quite a few drawings. I’d like to look a them with you. I think it could be fun if you tell me some stories about the pictures, like…. this one.” He pulled out a painting of a tree canopy, laying all the other papers and the case near the foot of the bed, then he settles back in next to Dean.

Seeing Eleanor through the window of the door, Cas nods to assure her that things are fine. She returns the gesture and makes the universal sign for ‘call me’, he understands that she wants to meet with him once he thinks it’s safe to leave Dean. They had spoken briefly about aftercare and debriefing when Dean first fell asleep. 

Dean studies his own painting. “It’s a tree.” Looking at Cas as if that’s all the response necessary. 

“I  _ KNOW _ it’s a tree. But can you you tell me about the tree, tell me the story of this tree? When I paint or draw… well, anything, there is always a story in my mind, even if other people don't see the same story when they look at my painting. I always know MY story of why I made that specific picture. Will you tell me yours?”

Dean slides down on his back, holding the paper up high with his arms extended above his face. Urging Cas to also lay flat, he makes Cas hold one edge while he holds the other, so that the picture is above them both. “You laid on the ground next to me, and you listened to the baby birds with me. Grass got in my mouth when you wiped if off your jeans, but you still had some on your back. It was funny.”

“You let me go in for my meeting with grass all over me? You… I’m glad you got grass in your mouth.” Laughing, Cas reaches over and wipes his fingers across Dean’s grin, playfully pushing his face away. “Jerk. Pick another one, and tell me that story.” Cas prods him on. They are making good progress, Dean is being very open and talkative, at least for Dean. 

Dean sits up and picks another paper. This one looks something like a page covered in mud and red clay. 

“O-kay, I must hear the story of this one!” Cas’s eyes go big showing his excitement, but man, he hopes it isn’t a picture of puke or something, because that’s what it sort of looks like. 

Grinning from ear to ear, Dean looks at Cas and raises his eyebrows. “Dick slipped in spilled chili and almost fell on his ass. But Linebacker caught him.”

“HA!” Cas spouts out a laugh, “That’s wonderful, Dean! - um, I mean - your painting and story, not that Dick nearly busted his ass… well, okay, it’s a tie - they’re both hilarious.”

They go through a few more, taking turns reaching down to grab a random paper, Dean telling Cas a few words or phrases about each image. Most of them turn out to be drawings or paintings Dean did while watching people during his free time in the dayroom. 

One of the sketches Cas picks up is a rather detailed and disturbing rendering of an eye. But it wasn’t just an eye; instead of the usual iris there was a person trying to escape. This is one of the most disturbing images Dean has drawn throughout this whole process.  Cas didn’t think now was the time to ask about the meaning of this particular drawing, so he tucks it away for later. 

Cas picks up one that looks to him to be covered in smudged charcoal, assuming it was scratch paper or one of Dean’s fits of scratching out his drawings. 

Dean sees the paper and scoots away, not looking back at the drawing. 

He points in the general direction of the paper. “It’s  _ him _ .”

“Dean, it’s safe, YOU drew this.”

“No. Put it away.”

“Close your eyes, Dean. Don’t look at the drawing, use your words and tell me what you drew.”

Shaking his head, Dean covers his eyes with both hands.

“To me it looks like smoke.” Cas begins, glancing at Dean. “But it’s not plain old smoke, there are details hidden in this, you didn’t scribble or smudge the charcoal on the paper without thought, did you? This shape… I’ve seen this before…”

“No… it’s just shitty smoke. Just that… nobody else.” Dean mumbles through his hands as he curls up into a fetal position.  Cas lets him hide, for now. 

Reaching down, he digs out Dean’s journal. Flipping through the pages, finding the image… over and over and over. It’s in the background of other pictures, behind or covering written pages, some dark and others barely visible. Always this similar shape. A big smokey smudge of gray to black with what looks like horns and a tail. Upon closer inspection of the various pages, Cas can tell that there are two erased marks that look like eyes. This is…

“Dean. This is your demon.”

Rolling toward Cas, Dean shoves the papers and journal away making them fall to the floor, wrapping himself around the other man. “Cas.” he breathes out, his face wet with tears. Please…” he whispers between sobs, “...don’t leave me.” His voice shaky and almost too small to be heard.

Cas pulls him into a strong hug. “I’m here for you. Never more than a phone call away.”

The sound of Dean’s rumbling stomach, followed by Cas’s own, attracts both their attention. “How ‘bout some dinner?” smirks Cas, gently placing his forehead against the undamaged side of Dean’s. 

“I gotta piss,” states Dean.

“I bet you do!” Laughs Cas, “You take care of that, and wash your face. Then we can walk to the dining hall, together.” Cas knew he could meet with Eleanor during or after dinner. 

As they move through the hallway, they are met by others who are also going for a meal. The more people they encounter, the closer Dean drifts toward Cas. By the time they enter the dining hall, Dean has leached onto him, holding his hand and gripping his elbow, pulling himself tight against Cas.  Dean’s eyes dart around the room, pegging each nurse and orderly. The cafeteria-style line flows more smoothly than Cas anticipates. Walking to a table, Dean is unable to latch onto Cas, due to the requirement of holding his own tray, but he still stays close. Upon finding a seat, Dean proudly sits next to Cas.

Aimee and Ash join them at the table. Cas is happy to see them and greets the pair, they discuss art class and his expectations for the upcoming class, as everyone settles in to eat. Everyone except Dean.

Dean looks at each of them in turn as they talk. Cas notices and surreptitiously watches the man. He can almost see the tension radiating off him as his mood changes. He deliberately glares at Dean. “What?” Not angrily, but firm and determined for an answer. Dean’s brow furrows and his lips thin into a pinched line. “Oh, no you don’t. Tell me why you’re suddenly angry with me.” Dean’s eyes go wide.

The others at the table are shocked at Cas’s attitude toward Dean. The staff usually try to either sweet-talk, bribe, or force the man into submission or they ignore him completely.. 

“He’s jealous,” spouts Aimee.

“Of?” questions Cas. 

“Her. Or maybe me,” contributes Ash. “Probably both.”

“Big baby doesn’t want to share his favorite toy,” sing-songs Aimee, and Ash laughs along with her. 

Cas hears a deep growl beside him. “Dean. Seriously? Growling?”

Suddenly, Dean goes quiet, mouth flapping, “I - I …” He doesn’t know what to do or say, no one has treated him like this in a long time. People have merely let him be, afraid he might bite or something. 

“Tell me why you’re angry.” Cas repeats, enunciating each word, raising one eyebrow, glaring at Dean. He ignores Ash and Aimee, as they spout off their own thoughts about the incident, moving himself into Dean’s line of vision and blocking the others.

“Cas, I… She says nasty things about you,” he tries, looking around Cas toward Aimee.

“Really, Dean… she says nasty things about everyone.” He spares a glance her way, she shrugs in agreement. “Why are you angry with ME?”

“I… Y… mnmmhh…” He lets out a whine as he tries hard to find the right words. Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Cas tenderly grasps his wrists, pulling his hands away to stop him from reopening his wound. 

Looking down at his lap, Dean tries again, pausing and stumbling over his words. “I… n - need …” He leans close and speaks soft and low so that only Cas can hear him. “... you, Cas.”

Wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders, Cas is smiling so big he thinks his face may break. “It’s nice to be needed. Thank you, Dean. No one has ever told me that before.”

Eleanor is standing behind Dean, just far enough away so she doesn’t catch his attention and disturb the interaction. She has never heard Dean admit something like that. Hiring Castiel to teach art has been the best medicine for Dean. 

Cas’s own stomach growls, Dean must hear it because he grins and pokes at Cas’s belly. “Feed your beast,” he whispers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta **TapBluesNLindyhopDancer** for helping with the extremely disturbing flashback.  
>  Stay tuned to see what happens next!
> 
> The drawing of Dean is not mine. I found that one online - Not sure who the owner is...  
> I did draw the creepy eye.


	17. Coming Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the next few weeks, Dean begins to open up to Eleanor during his therapy sessions.  
> Cas finds out why Dean doesn't like weekends at the Center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stepping outside the 'proper rules of engagement' when it comes to Teacher/Student behavior in this chapter. Let's just remember that this is a work of fiction - and that Castiel is not a predator who is out to hurt Dean.   
> Thanks.

Over the next few weeks, Dean begins to open up to Eleanor during his therapy sessions. At first, he only wants to discuss the art classes and the things he is learning from Cas. At one point, she even allows Cas to attend a session so they can delve into the overt and subvert messages in his drawings. 

Eleanor is reviewing what she believes to be poems that Dean has written. 

_ Keep holding on _

_ When my brain’s tickin' like a bomb _

_ Guess the black thoughts have come again to get me _

_ Sweet bitter words _

_ Unlike nothing I have heard _

_ Sing along, mockingbird _

_ You don't affect me _

_ That's right! _

_ Deliver it to my heart! _

_ Please strike! _

_ Be deliberate _

_ Wait _

_ I'm coming undone _

_ Irate _

_ I'm coming undone _

_ Too late _

_ I'm coming undone _

_ What looks so strong, so delicate _

_ Wait _

_ I'm starting to suffocate _

_ And soon I anticipate _

_ I'm coming undone _

_ What looks so strong, so delicate _

_ Choke, choke again _

_ I thought my demons were my friends _

_ Pity me in the end _

_ They're out to get me _

_ Since I was young _

_ I tasted sorrow on my tongue _

_ And this sweet chocolate gun does not protect me _

_ That's right! _

_ Trigger between my eyes _

_ Please strike! _

_ Make it quick now! _

 

Cas and Dean share a knowing look as mischievous grins take over their faces. 

“Eleanor, those are song lyrics… I guess you don’t listen to Korn…It seems Dean has quite a varied taste in music. I haven’t been able to stump him on an artist yet. He may know more about music than I know about art.” 

“Well, okay then. I think it's great that you like music so much. Would you like to have music to listen to in your free time? You’ve done a great job with taking care of your art kit, do you think you would be as responsible with a radio? I mean, what would be your response if someone wanted to take it or listen with you?” 

“I wouldn’t let anybody take it.” Dean jumps in quickly, then it dawns on him where she is leading with these questions. She wants to see if he would get angry and hurt someone… “I mean, I wouldn’t let them take it but I wouldn’t punch them or anything like that… I might let Garth or Joseph listen with me if they wanted. So long as I get to pick the music.” 

“Alright, Dean, I’ll see what I can do about finding you a radio or something.”

“I can take care of that, Eleanor. I’ll bring something next visit.” Cas offers, giving Dean a wink. Already working on a plan to stop by Best Buy on the way home and purchasing an mp3 player. He knows from their discussions and trivia games what music Dean likes. He’s going to get one with a large enough memory so Dean can listen to all the music he wants. 

Cas arrives early or stays late on the days that he teaches the art classes, making sure to have lunch with Dean. After the first few times, Dean becomes more accepting of having others sit with them, he even takes part in a few conversations. 

Dean still clams up quickly when specific parts of his history are broached, but much of his life story has been opened up for Eleanor. There are areas that he has shared with Cas that he hasn’t even told her, pleading with Cas to tell no one. 

With Autumn approaching, the days are beginning to be a little cooler. Now that the sun is no longer causing the afternoons to be unbearably hot, Dean and Cas take walks along the paths on the grounds of the Center. Dean especially likes these times because they are able to enjoy Nature and each other’s company without supervision. No orderlies, nurses or counselors watching and assessing every move he makes. Just Cas walking next to him, like a normal person. They usually bring their sketchbooks and spend some time drawing the amazing and wonderful things they find in the gardens. Cas loves bugs, Dean… not so much. 

One afternoon, Cas finds out just how much Dean does not like bugs. As they are stooping down looking at some little flowers growing up between rocks, Cas notices a walking-stick insect and watches it in amazement for a few minutes. Wanting to share the experience with Dean, he gently picks up the bug and places it on Dean’s arm. This causes a reaction that Cas never expected. Dean screams and jumps up, stomping on all the little flowers, tripping over his own feet and the rocks below, flailing as he stumbles trying to run away.

“Get it off! Get it off!” he screams.

Cas is laughing and trying to rescue the poor little bug. 

“Dean, it’s just a little walking stick insect. It can’t hurt you.” 

“You’re so mean! Eeew!” he gives a full body shiver, wiping his hands over his arms,  checking to make sure there are no more bugs on him. 

“Don’t be like that…” 

“Leave me alone,” Dean snaps, sitting on a large rock next to the path.

“No.” 

Pouting, Dean is looking down at the dirt next to the boulder. He smirks when he spots a small lizard.  Planning his revenge, he reaches down and catches the little reptile. 

Walking over to the other man, Dean gives him puppy eyes and places a hand on his chest. 

“Cas… I really hate bugs… so…” He shoves his hand containing the lizard past Cas’s collar and lets go, as soon as the little thing is out of his hand he takes off running. 

“What the hell!” Cas yells, slightly freaking out when he feels the movement of a foreign creature inside his shirt. Once he finds and frees the lizard. He takes off after Dean, lizard in hand. Catching him several yards away, he tackles him. Playfully pinning Dean down by placing his hand on Dean’s chest and making the reptile give him give him lizard kisses all over his face. 

“How do you like your lizard now?” he laughs as he leans over Dean, who is now lying flat on his back, panting and laughing along with him. 

Dean grabs Cas’s wrist. “Why don’t you kiss him instead of making him kiss me?” He shoves their hands toward Cas, causing the little lizard to slip free, running to safety and away from the crazy humans. 

“Awe…” Dean rolls to his side trying to see where it went.

Cas flops down next to him. “Hey, this is our tree.” he smiles, looking up into the canopy of the tree they’re lying under. 

“This is my favorite place on the whole campus.” Grins Dean as he looks at Cas’s profile. 

Cas rolls to his side, facing Dean, smiling as he gazes into the man’s green eyes as they sparkle in the rays of sunlight peeking through the leaves. 

Blinking slowly, deliberately, Dean licks his lips and glances from Cas’s eyes to his lips and back. Leaning ever so slightly toward the other man, as though he is being magnetically pulled without his control. Another blink and he notices that Cas, too, is inching closer. The laughter has stopped. He can hear the birds singing and the wind rustling the leaves above them. Dean can feel the fear in his chest waiting to take over. Perhaps it only wants to protect him but there really isn't any danger. It sits there like an angry ball propelling him towards an anxiety he just doesn’t need. There's something about being with Cas that evaporates his fear, maybe Cas’s warmth or fresh scent reminds Dean of freshly washed laundry, Dean’s not sure - but his body has already begun to relax. They both know what’s coming. 

Dean takes a breath and closes his eyes.

“Dean…” whispers Cas, “... may I kiss you? “ Cas’s breath on his lips.

In lieu of an answer, a shy look flashed across his face before Dean leaned closer and their lips met.

Tender and chaste, slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. Their first real kiss is one of caution and testing for reaction as the world fell away. 

Pulling back, both men stare into the eyes of the other, searching, reading, asking… pleading. 

Cas doesn’t want to push Dean into any situation, whether it be emotional, physical or sexual. He wants to let Dean lead the way with … whatever this is, just as he has in every other area. Art, friendship, touching… even though all touching, besides that first groping Dean tried, has been non-sexual. 

He really wants nothing more than to take Dean right here and now, he wants, no he needs, to taste, touch and know every inch of the may lying next to him… but he has sworn to himself that he will never cross any line and that all advancement in their relationship/friendship will rely on Dean’s state of mind and him being prepared to take the next step. 

Cas brings one hand up, tracing his fingers along the back of Dean’s hand, moving up along his forearm to his bicep, pausing... waiting on a sign from Dean.

Nodding, Dean leans back in, taking control of the kiss. Adjusting the angle and deepening the kiss, his hand is drawn to Cas’s hip.

Continuing to trail his fingers up over Dean’s shoulder, Cas gently grazes his neck and cups his jaw, fingers circling his ear as he moves him into the perfect position. Parting his own lips, offering Dean access.

Dean doesn’t hesitate, he hums as he enters Cas’s mouth. The feeling is mutual and Cas’s grip on Dean is firm as their tongues caress, taste and learn every surface of the other’s mouth. Dean slides his hand to the small of Cas’s back, urging him closer, their bodies pressed together from head to thighs. Hearts pounding, as they make out under ‘their’ tree.

Pulling Cas, Dean begins to roll onto his back.

“Hu-uh” Cas breathes against Dean’s lips, disagreeing with the action. “You’re the one in control here, Dean.” As he lays on his back pulling Dean on top of him. “You have the power to keep going or stop any time you want.” Continuing to kiss Dean along the jaw to his ear, he whispers. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Dean pulls back, looking into his eyes. “Anything?” 

“Well, for now, seeing that we are out in the open here… a good make-out session will have to do.” He winks and reaches up to give a quick kiss.

Smiling, Dean slides his hands under Cas’s shoulders and cradles his head in his hands. “That sounds like a good plan… for now.”  Lowering his head he takes Cas’s lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to get a low moan from him. Cas opens in agreement and invitation as Dean licks across his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Yummy!” Aimee purrs as she plops herself right next to the pair. “You guys are kinda noisy over here, I figured I’d better make sure everything is okay.”

“Fuck you, Aimee.” Dean grunts with no real malice behind his words. 

“Love you too, hun,” she retorts.

Cas wipes his hand down his face. “God, will you two try to be nice?”

“Oh, I’d be very nice… if he’d give me some of what he’s giving you.” 

Dean, having gone back to kissing along Cas’s neck and moving downward, pulling his collar away with his teeth as he tries to gain access even lower, mumbles, “Mmm, I’ve got all the nice I need right here..” 

“Dean, please… I think we need to take a little break…” Grasping Dean’s face with both hands, he pulls him into a firm kiss then playfully pushes Dean away and urges him to sit up with him. 

“Oh… don’t stop on my account,” pouts Aimee.

Smirking, Dean leans toward Cas.

“Dean… “ Cas lifts one eyebrow and gives him ‘that’ look.

“Aww, Cas…” Dean gives his best puppy eyes.

Cas continues his glare, not giving in to the impossibly adorable pout on the man’s face. 

Accepting defeat, Dean lowers his forehead to Cas’s shoulder. Cas tenderly leans his own head to touch the top of Dean’s, showing him that he isn’t angry and that he is still there for him. 

“You guys are wicked cute!” Aimee calls out as she flops back onto the grass, clutching her hands over her heart. “I could just die.” 

Noticing the orderlies rounding up people to go inside, Cas realizes it must be dinner time. Running his fingers through Dean’s hair to get his attention. 

“Hey… want me to stay for dinner?”

Reaching up, Dean places his hand on the back of Cas’s neck and kisses him. “Of course I do,” he breathes against Cas’s lips, giving him one last kiss, then jumping up and grabbing Cas’s hands, pulling him to his feet.

“C’mon, Aimee,” Dean calls to the woman still laying in the grass. He leads the way as the three go inside for dinner. 

Eleanor is making her usual rounds through the dining hall, speaking to each of her patients.

“Castiel, I didn’t realize you were joining us for dinner this evening,” she says in greeting.

“I was still here… um… visiting with Dean, so I figured I may as well eat before I head back home.” He squeezes Dean’s leg under the table.

“They were having a lovely  _ visit _ outside under the big magnolia.” Aimee inserts herself into the conversation, “I  _ almost _ felt bad interrupting their  _ visiting _ . I wish Castiel would  _ visit _ me some time the way he  _ visits _ Dean…”

“Shut-up, Aimee!” snaps Dean.

“Now, Dean. Please don’t become hostile toward Aimee,” reprimands Eleanor.

“She needs to mind her own business,” he snarls, leaning forward aggressively, his forearms framing his tray, plastic fork grasped tightly in his fist. 

Placing his hand firmly on Dean’s back, Cas draws the man's attention to him instead of Aimee.

“Dean, don’t worry about her. She isn’t your enemy, nor is she a threat of any kind. Remember, we talked about this?” 

Exhaling, Dean leans back against Cas’s touch, releasing his fork.

“Take deep breaths, Dean. Breath with me.” Cas urges as he gently rubs his back. “There you go.”

Dean relaxes as he breathes in and out slowly, deeply, counting quietly with each breath.

Looking up at Eleanor’s surprised face, Cas explains. “I’ve been teaching Dean some of my yoga meditation practices.” 

“Yoga? Well, it seems to be working.” She looks from Dean to Castiel. “You know, if you can recommend a reputable yogi…”

“You mean to tell me that out of all the possible treatments, you’ve never tried yoga with the patients?” 

“Castiel, this has always been a medical facility, first and foremost. Personally, I’ve been pushing the board to accept non-contemporary treatment methods since I have been on staff here. Getting Dick Roman to put funds into anything outside his own ideas is not an easy task.”

“Really… When is the next board meeting?”

“Um, in three weeks, why?”

“Put me on the agenda.”

“Oh, Castiel. I could kiss you!” she beams.

Dean frowns, glaring between the two. 

Cas grips the back of Dean’s neck. “It’s just a phrase, Dean.”

“Yeah… I know…” he pouts.

“Well, I have to see a few others before I’m done for the day. Castiel, Thank you. I’ll call you to make arrangements for the board meeting. Dean, Aimee, I’ll see you both tomorrow for your sessions.” 

“Bye, Ms. Visyak! I’ll make sure these two behave and eat their vegetables!”

“You do that.” Eleanor smiles, shaking her head as she walks away to speak with another patient. 

“You know, she knows…” Aimee winks at Cas.

Dean’s eyes almost bug out of his face. “Cas?” 

“It’s okay, Dean. We’ve done nothing wrong,” squeezing him in a one-arm hug. 

“I kinda hate Thursdays…”  Dean grumbles as he forks his green beans.

“I thought you liked Thursdays because we have our individual session in the afternoon.” Cas tilts his head in confusion as he watches Dean stab at his beans. “Dean…?”

“It’s…. just…. four whole days, Cas,” he whines. “Two of them are the weekend… Weekends suck worse than Wednesdays.” 

“What’s so bad about weekends?”

“Visitation,” blurts Aimee.

“Visi….Oh!” It dawns on Cas that while others in the Center may have family or other loved ones who visit them on a regular basis, Dean has no family.

“Dean…” Cas begins, pausing until he has the man’s attention. “On Sunday, I have to meet with the director of a local gallery. My manager, I’ve told you about Gabriel, well, he will be with me for the meeting.”

“Good for you,” Dean grumbles, causing Cas to roll his eyes.

“How would you like to meet him?”

“Really? You want to bring him… here?  To meet...me? You… You ain’t ashamed?”

“Ashamed? Of What? ...YOU? Oh my God, Dean. I’m more worried about Gabriel being a total assbut! Nothing about you brings me shame.”

“ASSBUTT!?” Aimee burst out laughing.

Ignoring her outburst, Cas cradles Dean’s face in his hands.

“Dean, you bring joy to my life. I am so proud of you. You are an amazing, beautiful person.” Leaning in, he gives him a chaste kiss.

“Eat your vegetables!” Aimee slaps the table, bring the two men back to reality.

“Yes, ma’am!” laughs Cas, as he eats a big bite of his salad. 

Dean forks at his green beans, smiling so big his face hurts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for keeping up with my boys.  
> Sorry this one was a short chapter.  
> (Kudos and Comments make me feel all fuzzy inside)  
> Next installment we get a peek under the hood of Castiel's psyche...


	18. Cheeseburgers and Crinkle-cut fries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has a tough day. Maybe a nice lunch date and visit with Dean will make things better... As long as nothing else goes wrong.

Sitting in the coffee shop Sunday morning, Gabriel attempts to discuss the details of their meeting with the gallery director.

“Cassie, don't agree to anything with this guy until we have fees and expectations hashed out.”

“I know, Gabe,” Cas rolls his eyes. “You act like I’ve never done this before.”

“No. I act like I know how you always agree to more than you should, more than you can handle.”

Cas slumps in his seat, flaking off layers of his Danish with his fork.

“Cassie, man, you’re only human. You can only produce so many finished pieces in a given time limit.”

“I know, Gabe,” he repeats, only half listening to his manager.

“We’re going to meet this Crowley guy and get a feel of the changes he is wanting to make at the gallery. From what I hear, he’s wanting to host the reopening event with you as the focal artist.”

“I know, Gabe.” Cas sighs. They’ve been over this already. He knows Gabe is watching out for his best interests, but he’s having trouble focusing on the here-and-now with the thought of seeing Dean later.

This depth of emotion is so new, so different from other people he’s dated. Dated? Is he dating Dean? He hasn’t dated anyone in years. Slept with sure, but to have any level of emotional connection, that’s not something he has had to deal with in a long time.

Suddenly, sharp pain flairs in his shin. Cas realizes that he must have totally zoned out, that Gabe is still talking, and that he’s just received a kick in the shin.

“Ow...dude, really?” Cas complains as he rubs his leg.

“Not only have you destroyed a perfectly defenseless pastry, you’ve completely ignored me for a good five minutes. Did you not hear your phone? Crowley called, he’s at the gallery and ready for us to come over. We need to go.”

Cas looks at his phone in Gabe’s hand. “Shit. Sorry, Gabe.”

“Where’s your head today, Cassie?”  


‘ _Between Dean’s thighs…_ ’ Cas shakes off the thought. “Huh?”  


Gabe stares at him.  “God, Cassie. Are you hungover? Dammit, are you high?”

Giving an indignant glare, Cas gathers his things and throws his messenger bag over his shoulder as he stands up from their booth.

“You ready or what? Let’s get this over with.”

“Get this over wi… What is your issue?”

“No issue.  I just… We do have lunch plans after this meeting. Let’s go take care of business with this… Mr. Crowley. Sunday morning meetings, who does that?” Cas grumbles as he makes his way toward the exit.

Gabe follows Cas out to his truck.

“So, this lunch… You’re still not going to give me any details? Guess that’s why we had to come in this POS instead of my Benz?”

Cas rolls his eyes and gets in the driver’s side. “This truck is not a POS. It’s a classic! Shut-up and get in.”

The drive to the gallery is short and it probably takes longer to find a parking space than it took to drive over. Once inside, they are directed to Crowley’s office.

“Gentlemen, welcome.” A short, dark-haired man with a British accent greets them.

Castiel notices his tailored European suit when he stands and walks around his large desk to formally welcome them.

“I’ve already given Gabriel an overview of my plan. Walk with me, we’ll discuss my ideas in a bit more detail.”

They follow the man out of the office and toward one of the large showrooms. As they walk through the various rooms, Crowley points out specific areas for showcasing different-sized displays.

“I’ve been watching your career for some time now, Castiel. I believe that your Nudes series is the perfect centerpiece for the grand reopening event. I’m thrilled that we are able to include it.”

Castiel nods along as Crowley speaks.

“I do have another idea for a new series that one of my major funders is very interested in.”

“A new series? I’ve just completed a large series. I usually prefer to take time between large projects. Also, timing may be an issue as I do have a current obligation…”

“Cassie, what are you doing?” Gabe cuts him off mid-sentence.

“Gabe, the Center, I do have to take all my obligations into consideration.”

“But, Cassie…”

“Not now, Gabe.”

“Do we have a problem, gentlemen?”

“No.” They both answer angrily and in unison, still glaring at each other.

“Please, continue, Mr. Crowley,” Gabriel says, attempting to diffuse the potential powder keg. He gives Castiel a look warning him to keep his mouth shut.

“Thank you. Now, the Nudes would be the focal series of the opening. There will be several other local artists displayed as well. This event is meant to show off the hidden talent as well as the known artists of Austin. With my expertise, the world's richest enthusiasts will be clamoring for the art produced here in Central Texas.”

Castiel rolls his eyes at the man's hubris. He has been selling his own art worldwide since he was a teenager, he doesn’t need some haughty gallery director acting on his behalf. Austin is already well known for its art society. Who does this douchebag think he is? He grits his teeth to keep from speaking his mind.

“I would like to meet with you again, after the event to further discuss the idea for the new series.”

Castiel seethes, so angry at Gabe’s dismissal of his ideas about his own life and at the audacity of this British ass. Like a petulant child, he gives Gabe and Crowley the stink eye as he follows along behind them. 

Crowley and Gabriel discuss contracts, legalities, and money.

Castiel purposely ignores the discussion. He doesn’t care about this man, Crowley, or his plans for the gallery. All he can focus on right now is the fact that Gabe cares so little about Cas’s obligation at the Center. This art class and the sessions with Dean have made him feel more accomplished and necessary than any other work he has ever done.

He has spent his whole life performing for others. The fact that he loves painting and drawing doesn’t ease the pain of the knowledge that every piece of art that he has completed has been commissioned. His sketchbooks are the only things he has ever kept, these are his own, private and precious thoughts. The entries in his sketchbooks are where he allows himself to be at his most creative and let his raw emotions flood out onto the pages. 

He has essentially been selling himself since he sold his first painting at the age of sixteen

When Gabe became his manager, it all became professional, it was like a real job. However, he knows it is really no different than when he propositioned buyers or sold his art on street corners. Now he has a pimp to handle the details, he only needs to perform.

He is very good at what he does. He has made himself believe that his life has become what he always wanted. But has it really?

Money, power, sex… these are things he has. Family, friends, love… these are things he has pushed away or thought he didn’t want… or need. Not since… he was twelve… not since the accident took his parents.

Love was never a priority in the home of his Uncle Michael. Work… earn his keep. Earn his freedom. Earn more money, more power, more notoriety.

Gabe is always telling him which commission to accept based on the dollar amount. He hasn’t chosen his own focus of work since he was eighteen.

“No,” he says aloud.

The other two men are not fazed by his word and they continue to discuss plans for Castiel’s future without his voice in the matter.

“No,” he states more firmly.

“No what, Cassie?” Gabe replies as if he is speaking to a bothersome child.

“No. I will not accept the commission offered by Mr. Crowley.”

“You what?” Gabe demands, rounding on Castiel.

“I will allow the Nudes series to be showcased prior to final sale to the original buyer. But I will not accept another commission at this time,” he responds, standing firm on his decision. Cas has never told Gabe no when a job was offered.

“You… Mr. Crowley… Please, don’t let the boy worry you. I will speak to him. I’m sure you know how moody artists can be.” Gabriel tries to recover the situation that he believes to be in jeopardy.

“I believe we are done for today. Do talk to the lad.” As Crowley turns to walk away he sneers at Castiel.

Gabriel shoves Castiel toward the gallery exit.

“Boy!?” Castiel shouts as they walk through the main lobby. “I am not a fucking child, Gabriel!” He continues. 

Gabriel looks around apologetically at the people in the lobby. He pushes  Castiel through the front doors to get him out of the place before he goes nuclear.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Castiel yells, slapping at Gabriel as they step out onto the sidewalk.

The sun is high and bright, causing him to squint, wishing he’d not left his sunglasses in the truck. Barely able to open his eyes enough to see where he is going, he storms off toward the parking deck.

“Cassie, wait!” Gabriel tries, knowing the man is far too angry to be reasonable at this point.

Castiel is already sitting in the driver's seat when Gabriel reaches the truck.

“Are you going to unlock the door?”

Instead, Castiel gets out of the truck, slamming the door so hard the truck rocks and the sound echoes in the parking lot.

“Cassie?” Gabriel feebly smiles and takes a cautious step towards the front of the truck.

“Stay where you are.” Castiel growls through clenched teeth. “For your own safety, stay the fuck over there.”

“What the hell, Castiel?”

Castiel places his hands on the hood of the truck, leaning his weight against it, his head bowed, breathing deeply as he tries desperately to calm himself and not beat the living shit out of Gabriel.

“I am not a child.” He says to his own feet, attempting to sound level-headed and not like the angry child he’s claiming not to be.

“Yeah, you said that.”

“I’m not your boy either.”

“That… That’s just a term of endearment, Cassie.”

“Stop calling me that!” he shouts.  “I've asked you not to call me that all my goddamned life! I fucking hate it!” No longer able to hide his true feelings.

“Why… Why can’t you do that one thing? Why can’t …” Bringing his hands to his face, he covers his eyes, taking shaky breaths.

“Dammit, Gabe,” his voice shakes overwhelmed with emotion.

Neglecting his own safety, and assuming Castiel is passed the violent stage, Gabriel rounds the truck, arms encircling Castiel, bringing the man’s head to rest on his shoulder.

“Shhh, Castiel,” he soothes.

Hating himself and his own weakness, Castiel breaks, letting out a sob as he grips the smaller man tightly.

“Dammit, Gabe,” he repeats, this time between quivering breaths and tears.

Gabriel holds him, allowing him to cry it out. He can’t help but remember the young boy that Castiel used to be not so long ago. No matter what happens between them, he will always have a soft spot in his heart for this man.

Minutes later, Castiel is finally able to stand on his own. Raising his head up, he wipes his face on the inside of his t-shirt collar.

“Shit.” He huffs out a laugh.

“So, you gonna tell me what the hell that was all about?” Gabe asks as he directs Castiel to the passenger side.

Castiel glares as Gabriel tries to take his keys.

“You’re in no shape to drive.”

“I’m fine!” Castiel snaps, as he continues around the bed back to the driver’s door. Reaching across the bench seat, he unlocks the passenger door.

Gabriel climbs in, shuts his door and stares lasers at Castiel.

Castiel just sits there, hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead.

“Spill, Cas.”

Castiel blinks, looking down, he puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine. “We have an appointment,” he states indifferently.

“Castiel…”

“Drop it, we’ll talk … later.”

Gabriel stares out his side window for a moment. “Fine. So tell me what’s so important about this damn lunch.”

Castiel can’t help himself and a smile breaks out across his face. Every heartbeat is thumping in his ears - Dean Dean Dean Dean. Instantly, his anger is washed away as he closes his eyes and pictures those green eyes, freckles, and oh... those lips.

“So?” Gabriel startles him out of his daydream.

“I - I…” He blinks a few times as he gathers his thoughts. “I’m sorry I got so angry. I will attend the gallery opening. But, please, please, Gabe…” He turns in his seat to face the other man. “I’m asking you, begging, please don’t agree to the commission from Crowley.”

Bewildered, Gabriel looks at him. Cas has never rejected a commission before.

“Gabe, I just can’t. Please believe me.” He implores.

“Cassie… Cas… Where is this coming from? You’ve never had an issue with my judgment in the past. Do you no longer trust me?”

“Oh - oh God, Gabe, no. It’s not you. I-I don’t… I can’t explain it. Please…” he pauses, ashamed of his behavior.

“Gabe, I cannot be under contract with that man. I just can’t.” Castiel has never pleaded so desperately in his life. There is actual fear in the pit of his stomach at the thought of being under the control of Crowley. He has no idea why he has such an overwhelming distrust around this man, but right now he just knows in his heart that he should not work under the creepy little British man. Out of all the douchebags he has worked with, this man stands out.  

Reaching across the seat, Gabriel takes Cas’s hands in his. “Castiel, you’re trembling.”

Pleading, Castiel’s watery eyes pierce Gabriel’s armor.

“Alright,” Gabriel huffs, “if it means so much that you become this distressed. We’ll do the opening and I’ll notify Crowley that you will not be accepting the commission.”

Castiel pulls Gabriel into an awkward, suffocatingly tight hug.

“Thank you. Thank you.” He is so relieved at the decision and Gabriel’s acceptance.

“Oh god! We’re going to be late!” He pushes himself off Gabriel. “Seatbelt.”

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel obeys and clicks his seatbelt. Still unsure why this lunch appointment is so important.

The parking lot is full, so Castiel has to park down the street at the Baptist Church, which is being used for overflow parking. He and Gabriel make their way back to the Lady Bird Center. Castiel had no idea it would be so crowded. He figured that maybe a few people visited on the weekends. Not that it was a big event with such a huge turnout. No wonder Dean was so upset about never having visitors.

“Mr. Novak? What are you doing here?” Joshua greets them as they walk across the front lawn.

“Hello, Joshua.” He smiles at the kindly old man. “I promised Dean that I would visit today. Have you seen him?”

The smile fades from Joshua’s face. “Yes, I saw him earlier. Twice, in fact. The first time he was over near the large magnolia, drawing.” He points in the direction of the tree mentioned.

“And the other?” Asks Castiel, full of concern due to the man’s solemn demeanor.

“When I saw him next, the boy was being escorted inside by a nurse.”

“Do you know what happened, Joshua?”  Joshua shakes his head, Castiel’s heart pounds in his chest. They were much later than he had discussed with Dean. Thinking the gallery visit would be much shorter and then he pitched his own stupid tantrum. 

“Joshua! Where is he now?” He doesn’t mean to shout at the man, he’s just had such an emotional morning, this is the last thing he needs to happen.

Joshua looks around and points toward a bench on the path to the playground. “I see him, Mr. Novak.”

Relief floods over Castiel. Forgetting all else, he runs to the man sitting on the bench. Slowing to a stop before reaching the bench. The man is leaning forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. Slowly, Castiel takes the last few feet to the bench. The rock path crunches under his feet, causing Dean to look up.

“Oh, Dean.” He gasps when he sees Dean’s bruised face. He takes the last two steps and wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders, bringing him in for a hug.

“C-Cas?” Dean seeks, his voice small, shaky and horse. “Are you really here?”

“I’m here. I’m so sorry. I’m here now.”

Heaving out a heavy sigh, Dean grips tightly to Cas. “You’re here.”

Cas pulls back so he can see Dean’s face.

Dean ducks his head and cradles his arm in an attempt to hide recent injuries. 

“Dean, please look at me.”

Shaking his head, Dean whines as his tears take over. “’M sorry, Cas. M-messed up. T-they gave me a- a shot.” He has a hard time getting his words out without slurring due to the mild sedative he was given. “They said t’was a lil shot. Jus to help.”

Releasing the hug, Castiel takes Dean’s face in his hands, leaning he brushes his own lips gently across Dean’s busted lip.

“You.. ain’t mad?” Dean whispers.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He replies, not answering the man’s question.

Dean looks away. “‘M sorry.” He wipes the tears from his face, wincing at the pain when his hand presses his swollen eye.

“I - I… They…” Gulping, he takes a deep breath and tries again, slowly. “I was so happy this mornin’, Cas. I brushed my hair and put on my best shirt.” Looking down at his ripped t-shirt, he lets out a sob and clenches his fists in his shirt.

Cas puts his arm around Dean’s shoulders, settling in next to him.

“And… nobody believed me. I wasn’t lyin’. I told ’em you was comin’ and they laughed.  ‘Cuz I never get no visitors. But… I knew, ‘cuz you promised.” He takes a harsh breath and wipes at his tears, unable to look Cas in the face.

“Ruby ‘n Christian, and .. an a couple other guys… Cas… “M sorry… I- I didn’t wanna, but…” He wraps himself around Cas, pressing his face into his chest.

“Dean, What? What happened?”

“I tried to be good.” He mumbles against Cas.

“Dean, Sweetheart, please tell me who hurt you.”

“Christian.” He answers, still pressed tight to Cas’s chest.

“Christian hit you?” A bubble of anger growing deep inside wanting to erupt.

Dean nods.

“Why?” Castiel barks.

Flinching, Dean makes himself small, sinking low on the bench as he slowly moves away from Castiel.

“I-I didn’t start it, Cas. I swear! I w-was just sittin’ under our tree!” Sitting up, Dean’s fear is written all over his bruised face as he moves farther away from Castiel.

Cas’s chest constricts when he realizes that the fear he sees on Dean is directed at him. His own anger has frightened Dean.

“Dean…,” he pleads. “I’m not angry with you. I’m upset that this Christian hit you.”

Relaxing slightly, he tentatively reaches a hand to Cas.

Welcoming the touch, he brings Dean’s hand to his own lips, kissing the red swollen knuckles. “You fought back.” He says between kisses on each finger.

Dean gives a small nod, still worried about Cas being angry at him.

Taking Dean’s other hand in his own, Cas checks him over for more signs of the fight.

“I didn’t want to. He wouldn’t stop. I tried to make him stop.”

Cas continues to check Dean for battle wounds, tenderly kissing each bruise and new scratch on his hands and arms, like he’s chinaware and could shatter to pieces given the slightest pressure.

Dean shivers as Cas works his way up his left arm to the defensive bruises on his bicep.

Closing his eyes, Dean recounts the fight.

“Ruby was laughin’ at me. She said you weren’t gonna come. She told the other guys that I’m a liar and a-a… a stupid cutter whore.”  The last words coming out in a fast string. Dean breathes out as he searches Cas’s eyes.

“’M not a whore, Cas,” He pleads.

“No, Dean. You are not a whore, and you are not stupid.” He gently cards his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean closes his eyes and leans into the touch. 

“Then what happened, Sweetheart?”

Dean gapes at Cas, blinking slowly, unable to speak for a moment.

“Um… Shouting. Shouting happened next. Then, um, then I think I got up to look for you, But, that’s when I got shoved. I dunno who, so I turned to look… and got a fist to my face.” Frowning, he looks away, ashamed and afraid.

Cas gently turns Dean’s face back to him.

“Everything went dark, Cas. I dunno what I did next.” Falling to his knees in front of Cas, he wraps himself around them and presses into him with all his might.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I tried to be good. ‘M sorry, I’m jus’ so fucked up. I wanna be good, to be better.” He cries uncontrollably into Cas’s lap.

“Oh, Dean…,” Cas leans down against the man in his lap.

“You are good. You’re soooo good.” He caresses  Dean’s sides as he lets the man cry. Cas looks up and scans the crowd that he had completely forgotten about.  He is searching for Eleanor but spots Gabriel instead. “Oh fuck, Gabriel,” he murmurs.

Cas opens his mouth to call out to Gabriel when a hand pats his shoulder, causing him to flinch. Looking around, he sees Aimee.

“Is he gonna be okay?” she asks, looking at Dean.

That’s a big question. Is Dean ever going to be okay? Cas wants nothing more than for Dean to be able to live a full life outside the grounds of a mental center. He wants Dean to have a  home and to feel loved.

Looking down at the man in his lap, his mind settles for the first time today. He actually feels a warm, soothing calm as the breeze blows gently around them. His heart is light, and he can see Dean’s chest expand and compress with each breath as the man in his lap also begins to calm.

“Dean…,” he says softly.

Dean’s breath hitches and he wipes his face on Cas’s tear-soaked jeans-clad leg. He looks up at Cas, his bruised eyes rimmed red and puffy.

Cas smiles down at him. “I love you.”

Dean huffs and shyly and lifts his gaze upward.

“I. Love. You.” Cas repeats, looking Dean squarely in the eyes.

“Cas… but, ‘M broken. You deserve better.”

“You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. You have a beautiful soul, a heart of pure gold, and more love to offer than a Hallmark store.” Cas proclaims as he joins him on the ground, pulling Dean to face him, kissing him with all the passion and love and fear that is fighting to be released.

“That’s so hot.” Aimee gawks at the two men kneeling in the gravel, embraced in a heated kiss.

Gabriel sits on the end of the bench, looking between the man and the wide-eyed blond woman.

“If I’d known this was a date, I would have let Cassie come alone,” he says to the woman as he reaches out to shake her hand. “I’m Gabriel, Cassie’s manager and possibly best friend.”

“Aimee, worshiper of beautiful love and hot dude-on-dude action.” She climbs over the back of the bench and sits next to Gabriel. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“Why, no, I have not. Cassie told me this was a lunch meeting. I didn’t realize he meant it was a quickie.” He pushes at Cas with his foot.

Cas wants to ignore Gabe and stay in this perfect bubble with Dean, but when Dean’s stomach rumbles, Cas can’t bear the thought of him going hungry even for one meal.

Loosening his grip on the man he loves, Cas gives Dean an Eskimo kiss and as Dean closes his eyes, Cas trails his fingertips down Dean’s arms until they find his hands. “Hey,” he gives Dean one more peck on the lips, “...let’s go eat.” He helps Dean to his feet.

Dean looks around, embarrassed; he didn’t realize they had an audience. He scowls at Aimee.

“Hey! I just came to give you an update,” she defends herself.

“Christian has a broken nose and lost two teeth.” She proudly grins at Dean.

Dean stills, his grip on Cas’s hand loosens. “I broke his nose?”

Wrapping his free arm around his middle, he shakes loose from Cas’s grip and covers his mouth. Bile rising fast in his throat.

Gabriel looks at Cas, trying to figure out what is happening.

Looking around for something to assist, Aimee points to a nearby trash can. Cas immediately maneuvers Dean, just in time.

Aimee smiles up at Gabriel. “Shall we go inside? They’ll find us when he’s done.” As if this were all perfectly normal.

“Um…,” Gabriel replies unintelligently.

She takes his hand and leads him inside, filling him in on the events of the morning.

By the time Cas and Dean join them in the dining hall, Gabriel is sitting at a table with several of the group members. Entertaining and being entertained, to judge by the sound of the laughter coming from the table.

“CASSIE!” The entire table greets in unison when they approach.

“Great,” Cas replies, defeated.

Dean tightens his grip on Cas’s hand as he leans his forehead to his shoulder. “I think it’s cute,” he whispers, “but I can think of other things to call you… in private.” he finishes and nuzzles against Cas’s neck, his hot breath causes Cas to shiver.

“I - I think we should get some food.” Cas gulps, trying to stay calm, but he really wants to find out what Dean would call him in private.

“Hey, Cassie, they have your favorite, burgers, and fries.” Gabriel smiles.

Dean pulls Cas toward the line. “They only have hamburgers and crinkle fries on visitation day,” he urges excitedly.

Cas laughs and meets Dean’s stride.

“I usually have to wait till all the visiting families are done before I can get in line. That means I’m stuck with a hot dog and chips from the kid’s line. I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ burger today!”

Dean is over-excited when they reach the front of the line. Cas can't stop smiling and thinks Dean looks like a happy little boy who just won the biggest prize at the fair.

“Pickles. Lots of pickles, and cheese, oh bacon, God I need bacon! No fuckin’ onions. Yuck! No lettuce either, lettuce is for salads. Oo - yes, crinkle-cut fries!”

Cas can’t contain his laughter. “Same for me.” He manages to tell the server.

They stop at the condiments and Dean squirts ketchup on his burger and a pile for his fries. Looking at Cas, he holds it out in question. Cas nods and Dean gives his food the same treatment of ketchup.

Finally seated with the group at the table, Dean takes a huge bite of his burger, moaning in satisfaction.

“These make me so happy,” smiles Cas as he, too, takes a bite of his own burger, loving the sounds that Dean is making.

“Oh, my God,” Cas stops mid-bite. “Gabriel. I’m so sorry. I was so, um... worried about Dean that I completely forgot about you.”

“Ouch!” Gabriel clasps his chest, feigning the pain of a broken heart. “No biggie. The gang here filled me in on all the tasty-tidbits.” He raises his eyebrows teasingly at Cas.

Dean slaps his hand on the table. “Don’t be rude to Cas.” He snarls at Gabriel.

Gabriel opens his mouth to give a smart retort, but Ash speaks up before he has a chance.

“I wouldn’t if I was you, Dean don’t play,” he warns.

“Dean, it’s fine. Gabe may be a smartass, but he’s my smartass friend. I can handle him.” Leaning close to Dean, he whispers. “Remember your temper, Sweetheart. I’m still going to talk to Eleanor about the outing.”

Dean completely melts into Cas.

“Aren’t they adorable?” swoons Aimee.

“Saccharine sweet,” mocks Ash.

“Sickening sweet, you mean.” Gabriel pretends to gag. 

“Shut up, Gabe,” Cas grins and returns his attention to his food.

“Eat your lunch, Dean. I’m sure you need something now that your stomach is completely empty.” He rubs his hand on Dean’s thigh.

Sucking in a gasp, Dean drops a hand to meet Cas’s. Covering the hand on his leg with his own, he leads the warm hand farther up his thigh. He hesitantly drags both hands along his inner thigh. When they reach his crotch, he stops. Cas does not tense or withdraw, so Dean brushes Cas’s pinky finger against his semi-hard cock.

Cas reluctantly, gingerly pulls his hand away from Dean’s cock but entwines their fingers together, leaning close and whispering, his breath hot against Dean’s neck.

“Not yet, babe. I understand, but… not yet.” He leads Dean’s eyes to his own arousal. Closing his eyes, his lips brush against Dean’s ear, “I do understand...” he whispers, barely audible then leans back and ends up staring into Dean’s lust-blown, sparkling eyes. Pulling away to force himself to finish his lunch.

Dean’s whole body shivers from the gaze. Glancing around the table, no one seems to have noticed their interaction. It takes all his willpower and concentration to finish his lunch. He barely tastes the burger he was so excited about. “ _ Not yet _ ,” Cas had said. That means that it will happen. He smiles so big his face might break.

The group at the table continues to chatter. Cas and Dean both enjoy the company of the others and eventually join back in when the conversation comes back around.

Cas is happy that Gabriel accepts Dean. He just hopes that Gabe is as understanding when he explains his thoughts about a future with Dean.

But first, he has to gather the courage to tell Dean.  


	19. Shut up and let me love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the Board meeting arrives. Castiel has his topics for discussion prepared. Speaking to a Board of Directors is not new, nor is it a big deal to Castiel, he has faced the Board Heads of multi-national art exhibitions and discussed billion-dollar events.  
> Castiel is confident, this Board of Directors are no different than any other he has encountered. His topic, however, is not a series of paintings for an exhibit, or private sale. This is not about him, he is here for his students.

Dick Roman sits at the head of a large conference table. The Board members are chatting away as Eleanor and Castiel enter the room.

Castiel is confident, this Board of Directors is no different than any other he has encountered. His topic, however, is not a series of paintings for an exhibit, or private sale. This is not about him, he is here for his students.

There are several topics of discussion concerning the budget, medical and psychological concerns of the Center before Castiel has his turn to speak. He and Eleanor had been waiting in the outer office for almost an hour.

Eleanor introduces him to the members, giving a brief overview of the documents which had been shared prior to the meeting.

Clearing his throat, Castiel greets the Board and begins sharing the details of his first topic. The proposal of yoga and yogic meditation being introduced to the treatment plan at the Center. He has provided a list of reputable instructors, some of whom have agreed to a series of free sessions as a trial period.

Castiel describes his own experiences with yoga and meditation, including an example of how it has helped one of the patients here at the Center.

Before the meeting, Dean and he had discussed the idea of him sharing Dean’s positive results from using the meditation and breathing methods. Dean agreed wholeheartedly, wanting to help Cas as much as Cas has helped him.

There is some debate, discussion, and questions before the Board gives a final decision.Throughout it all, Castiel is able to answer each question with authority and confidence, having years of yoga practice and having researched and spoken with many yogis in the Austin area. He is not a novice when it comes to getting what he wants; he did his homework.

These yoga methods will work and have worked in other institutions. He knows yoga will benefit the patients here.

After nearly ten minutes of deliberation, the Board is agreed on their decision. Yoga and yogic meditation will be included on a six-month trial basis. Eleanor is to develop and lead a council to oversee the project and there is to be an in-depth study with a detailed report presented at the end of the fifth month. 

Castiel and Eleanor are both thrilled with the decision of the Board.

Thanking them, Castiel moves to his second agenda topic. This one is a bit more selfish if he admits the truth.  But he treats it as businesslike as he can.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my next proposal is to take my art class on a - well-supervised - visit to a local gallery.”

There are murmurs around the table. Dick sits quietly, watching Castiel closely.

One of the doctors speaks up. “There have been outings, both successful and well, not-so-successful before, and it is something that can be positive in the treatment of certain patients. I believe that, with a careful review of those who are in this art class, it could be a welcome addition to the overall benefit of the course of treatment.”

Castiel dares to hope and excitement thumps in his chest.

Several others speak their minds, most in favor but a couple against. Questions are posed to Eleanor and Castiel. 

“There are patients in this class who are known to have violent tendencies. Is it a good idea to unleash them on the public?” One board member questions.

“Details will be carefully examined prior to the outing,” Eleanor answers.

“Even with careful measures being taken, remember the instance with the funfair?” Another board member throws out.

“That was an extreme case, no one knew the extent of the patients’ fear of clowns,” Eleanor reminds them.

The discussion goes back and forth between those in favor of the idea of an outing and those against. Castiel eyes Eleanor, worried that the arguments against may win. 

The few instances where an outing resulted in problems are causing the members to hesitate in coming to a decision and the discussion keeps shifting.

After almost twenty minutes of deliberation, Dick speaks up. “You are beginning to go in circles. I know that each of you has your firm belief on this particular issue, but this is not the time or place for arguments. You were given a detailed analysis prior to this meeting. The fact is that an outing is a welcome addition and can be a special treat to the patients. I believe the group that has been chosen to participate in Mr. Novak’s art class has already been evaluated, am I correct?”

Eleanor is relieved to have a chance to respond to the latest objections.  “Yes, sir. This group has been continually analyzed over the past few months during their attendance of the art classes. These classes have indeed proven to be beneficial. The rate of unwanted incidences has reduced among the patients, moods have elevated, violent episodes have decreased,  and social integration has increased. All of this leads me to believe that this group of individuals is properly suited to handle a supervised outing.”

“Thank you, Eleanor” Dick acknowledges.

“It seems that this decision is not as difficult as you have led me to believe,” he observes. “With proper preparation and supervision, this outing should result in positive reinforcement and promotion of healthy social reintegration for the patients.  Therefore, after much deliberation,” he eyes his Board members, “...this board has come to the decision to accept this endeavor. Eleanor and Mr. Novak will, of course, treat this outing with the professionalism and attention to detail as all other aspects of patient care are treated. Once again, this Board expects a report detailing the experience, which will be used in the compilation of future outings.”

Castiel wants to shout with joy. Instead, he graciously thanks the Board members and Dick for their attention and agreement to the topics he has brought forth.

Eleanor excuses herself and Castiel as their attendance are no longer required.

They leave the conference room and walk together, in silence, to Eleanor’s office.

Closing her office door behind them, Eleanor and Castiel look at each other with huge smiles, relief, and excitement filling them both.

“I thought you said that Dick was difficult to persuade,” Castiel sasses, teasing her.

“That was much easier than I had expected,” she beams.

The next half-hour is spent on discussing the visit to the gallery. Castiel plans to take the group on the Tuesday following the exhibition opening. Going on a weekday will greatly decrease stress on the group members as there will be fewer patrons visiting the gallery.

At the end of their time together, Castiel thanks Eleanor for all her hard work over the past few months.

“No, Castiel. I’m indebted to you. If not for your insistence and determination, neither of these ideas would have come to fruition. I have brought requests of alternative therapy methods to the Board on several occasions and they have all been pushed aside, seen as too costly or irrelevant. Are you sure you’re not a magician or some kind of angel? Because you have definitely worked miracles with the Board today, as well as with the students of your art class.”

A blush creeps up Castiel’s cheeks. That’s not the first time she has called him an angel.

“I assure you, I’m no angel,” he shoots her a mischievous smile and gives her a telling wink. “When I first made the decision to teach a class here. I had no grand aspirations. I only knew that the act of producing and sharing art is one of the purest forms of self-expression. I knew that it would be helpful. Honestly, I didn’t realize how beneficial it would be for the individuals of the class,” he continues, giving her a sad smile. “I didn't know how much working with these people was going to benefit my own mental health.”

“No one goes through life without trials and pain, Castiel. How we manage what life throws at us is what makes us who we are. Everyone needs help in some form throughout their life. Humans are social beings; none of us are meant to stand alone. But each of us should have the capability of standing on our own. Relations and relationships cannot, should not, be used as crutches.”

Tilting his head he squints at her, acknowledging that this conversation just to an abrupt turn.

“Castiel, I’m not blind. Your relationship with Dean has become more than platonic.”

A sudden rush of anticipation jolts him, sitting up straighter, and a gasp escapes his lips.

“Eleanor…,” he stops to collect his thoughts before continuing with a more level tone. He has no need to defend, nothing has been hidden or lied about. They are not children sneaking around behind the adults’ backs. They are both consenting adults.

“Yes, Dean and I do share a profound bond. We have remained open and honest with each other, as well as with you. I would never take advantage of the circumstances or of my arrangement with the Center. I treat all of my students with respect, including Dean. I want what is best for Dean. I believe that includes me.”

Eleanor digests Castiel’s words, contemplating her reply carefully.

“Dean cannot use you as an excuse or as a permanent crutch. He must be able to stand on his own, then he can lean on you. Support from loved ones is important in the healing process. Dean has never had a supportive family. His experiences throughout life have been less than desirable.”

“Except for Bobby and Charlie,” he interjects. “The Ranch.  He’s shared a few stories from his time living at the Ranch. He did have support and love during that period and he blossomed. From what he told me, neither of them allowed him to use them as an excuse or a crutch. The simple act of having someone believe in him gives Dean courage.”

“Castiel, do you realize that Dean refused to contribute to his own therapy or counseling prior to your arrival? He talked to you before he spoke a full sentence in a therapy session. I spent months receiving grunts, head shakes and one- to two-word answers. Dean expresses his intent more through physical actions than words.

“When he first arrived, he was angry - frighteningly angry. He was sent here by court order due to a self-harming incident while incarcerated after being arrested by the Austin Police.  We almost turned him away. He was extremely violent and this facility is not suited for such behavior. The only reason we accepted him was his self-harming trait. The Board understood what would happen to him in prison.

“He fought everyone and all attempts to help him. He was very loud, shouting profanities and threats. He was very strong for a man who was homeless, underfed, and underweight. There were constant injuries to himself and to others each time medical staff made any attempt to get near him. We had to strip his room of everything that couldn’t be bolted down.

“At first, he had to be kept in a room with no furniture.  He was only allowed a mattress on the floor, due to the fact that he is capable of making a weapon out of just about anything. Castiel...he had taken his dresser apart and sharpened a metal drawer slide. He used that as a tool to cut deep gashes in his leg and then as a defensive weapon when the orderly tried to restrain him. That’s why the dresser he has now is solid wood with no metal parts.

“Then one day he stopped. Just shut down. He became mechanical in his daily life, simply going through the motions of being alive. He was no longer fighting, or shouting, or talking at all. He simply ate when told, took medicine when administered, slept and sat looking out the window. My first assumption was that he had relented to the thought of suicide and he was put under 24-hour watch. Although there have been moments of self-harm, he has never attempted to take his own life. Dean  _ wants _ to live. He just  _ needs to learn _ how. His life so far has only taught him how to survive.”

She pauses, allowing Castiel time to absorb what she has entrusted to him. 

Standing, Castiel walks to the window.  Rivulets of rain track down the glass, blurring the scene that lies beyond the pane.

Turning back to face Eleanor, the room is just as blurry as the outside world. Reaching his hand to his eyes, he wipes away the unshed tears. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

“I want that, too.” He offers shakily. His hand covering his eyes, he clears his throat and continues. “Dean isn’t the only one who has spent his life surviving, hiding. ‘Fake-it-til-you-make-it’ Gabe used to tell me.”

She hums in agreement.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel rights himself. His phone buzzes an alert in his pocket.

“Oh… it’s lunchtime!” He turns and smiles at Eleanor.

“Thank you, Eleanor. For everything.” Gathering his jacket and messenger bag, he waves and exits her office. He wants to run but keeps to controlled, long-strides as he makes his way to the dining hall.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas!” Dean jumps up from his seat and wraps his arms around Cas.

Not sparing a thought, Cas embraces his boyfriend, kissing him on the cheek.

“How was the boring meeting?” Dean asks as they settle in their seats at the table.

“BOARD Meeting,” Cas corrects, “And it went exceptionally well.”

Dean can’t stop staring and smiling at Cas. “Yeah? Tell me all the good stuff.”

“Both of my proposals were accepted. Eleanor and I will be able to introduce yoga and meditation to the Center’s overall therapy routine. It’s going to be very good for all the patients.”

“Cool. And the other  _ proposal _ ?” Dean uses Cas’s word teasingly.

Sticking out his tongue, Cas steals one of Dean’s baby carrots.

“The visit to the gallery was also accepted.” He laughs as Dean attacks him, nearly knocking him out of his seat.

“Oh, Cas!” Dean says between kisses all over Cas’s face. “You…” kiss on the right cheek, “...Are…” Kiss on the left cheek, “...Awesome…” He presses a kiss firmly on Cas’s lips.

After lunch, they are sitting on Dean’s bed. Both sketching in their own books. Cas had brought his sketchbook with him, hoping the rain would pass and they could spend the afternoon in the garden.  Instead, it’s turned into quite the thunderstorm.

Cas can’t help but notice how Dean reacts to the sounds of the storm outside.

“Are you alright, Sweetheart?”

“‘m fine,” Dean answers a little too quickly.

“Look at me, Dean.” Cas gently touches Dean’s chin.

Looking up, Dean attempts to smile but it comes across as a grimace when he flinches as a bolt of thunder crashes.

“Dean…,” Cas pushes their supplies out of the way. “Come here, Sweetheart.”

Thunder echoes through the room. Dean holds Cas tightly.  Squeezing and tightening his shoulders with each rumble of thunder.

“Dean, baby, you know that storm can’t harm you. You’re safe here, inside.”

“Yeah…” Dean mumbles into Cas’s side. “It’s just…” pulling away he tries to show Cas that he’s fine. “Never mind, ‘m good..”

Lightning brightens the room like a strobe light and thunder vibrates through the room. The storm is directly over them.

“Cas!” He launches himself, wrapping himself around Cas, hiding his face in his lap. Shaking as he whimpers about how much he hates storms.

“I’m here, Dean. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He soothes, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair, he kisses the back of his head.

They remain there, holding each other until the storm passes. It’s still raining but the heart of the storm has passed. Cas had pulled out his phone, so Dean could watch the weather app. Once the rain calmed, they watched a few funny pet videos on YouTube.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean looks up shyly, still flushed from crying.

“I’m just glad I was here to help you. Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“How would you have reacted had I not been with you?”

Not looking up as he answers. “I’d be under my bed. It’s my only hiding place here.”

Sometimes Dean’s unguarded answers sound like those of a small child.

Not wanting to upset Dean, Cas makes an attempt for more information while Dean is feeling safe. Cas has his arm around Dean’s shoulders as he leans against him, playing with a button on Cas’s flannel.

“Is it a good hiding place?”

“Not really. Under the bed is the first place they look.” Dean buttons and unbuttons the same one over and over.

‘ _ This is good, _ ’ Cas determines, Dean tends to be more open when his mind is on something else.

“Yeah, I bet. Especially in a room with so little furniture. What’s the best hiding spot?”

“Cupboards are good. Grown-ups don’t think to look in little spaces like that.”

“That makes sense,” Cas agrees.

“But sometimes they lock cupboards or take all the doors off when you hide there too much.”

Cas realizes that Dean is lost in memories, he does this sometimes, not quite in the present but coherent.  Dean almost regresses and he is in a near trance. His voice sounds much softer and youthful when he is in one of these states. Cas also knows that he has to take special care not to frighten or upset Dean when he is like this.

Dean doesn’t always make sense when he begins talking during one of these episodes, but Cas always allows him to continue until he works himself out of the state.

“Closets ain’t for hidin’,” he announces like he is repeating a command.

“Closets are for storage, for things we want to keep…. not for trash.”

Dean sits up, his back taut, legs crossed, looking straight ahead.

Cas closely watches him, not wanting him to retreat too far inside himself, but wanting to allow him to get whatever is bothering him off his chest.

“You know your place, boy!” He snarls, in a way that doesn’t sound like Dean’s words. His face is tense and his voice harsh. “Don’t make me tell you twice. Rules are important. My rules are law.”

Suddenly, Dean’s face softens, his eyes wide and fearful. He climbs off the bed, unaware that he is trampling his drawings and supplies.

He kneels on the floor by the far wall. His butt on his heels, head bowed, back straight. His hands are open and palms facing up, knees spread apart. He is breathing deep and steady.

Cas recognizes this position. ‘ _ This is Nadu… _ ’ Dean has been trained in submissive behavior. Beyond that, he seems to have taken himself to an alternate headspace.

Whatever Dean had just remembered, it was not good if this is his physical and mental reaction.

Cas clears the art supplies and puts everything away. As he is putting Dean’s things in his top drawer, an orderly speaks to him from the open door.

“Well, well. You’re just full of surprises, Art Teacher.” The man is eying Dean. “Kinky bastard.”

Cas’s immediate reaction is to want to punch the guy.

The orderly turns and walks away. Cas still stands there stunned.

‘ _ Shit. What if that guy spreads lies about Dean being my sub? What if Eleanor believes it? _ ”

“Shit, Shit.” He closes the drawer, pinching his finger. “SHIT!” Sucking his finger to ease the pain and keep himself from screaming out in frustration.

Pacing the room, Cas wags his hurt hand. “I have to fix this.”

Turning to pave back from the door, he nearly steps right into Dean, who is now standing right in front of him.

“Dean…what…are you okay?”

Pulling Cas to him, Dean kisses him deep and hot and hungry. His tongue parting Cas’s lips with authority.

Cas moans as Dean’s tongue circles his own.

Dean is an amazing kisser, and Cas has no shortage of examples to compare.

Having completely lost his train of thought, Cas relinquishes to the power of Dean.

Cas doesn’t notice that he is moving until his back hits the wall.

Dean’s hands are under his shirt, rucking it up to his armpits. Not breaking contact, Dean makes his way along Cas’s jaw, down his neck, and to his chest, kissing open-mouthed, licking and nipping at his nipples.

“Ohhh…,” Cas breathes out.

With one hand, Dean removes both of Cas’s shirts at once as he plays with Cas’s nipple with the other. Dropping the shirts to the floor, Dean trails his fingers up Cas’s arm until he grasps the nape of his neck. Mouthing his way back up, he once again makes an attack on Cas’s mouth.

Cas is unable to stop the embarrassing noises he’s making. His own hands grip Dean’s shoulders tight, holding on for dear life.

Dean’s hand moves from his nipple down, across his abs.

‘ _ So warm _ …’ Cas’s thoughts are narrowing, Dean’s touch is the only thing he can focus on.

Cas shivers as the large warm hand caresses his hip bone. Fingertips slip passed his waistband.

Cas moans. “Dean… hmnm… wait…”

Dean doesn’t respond. He continues to push his hand into Cas’s pants while kissing his neck.

“Oh… God… Dean… Please, wait… ungh… Dean… Stop.”

Dean freezes. Instantly dropping into Nadu. Eyes blank, staring at the floor between Cas’s feet.

“Oh, God, Dean. Shit…,” Cas realizes that Dean had still been in his sub headspace, not truly aware of his actions.

He sits in front of Dean, making himself lower. Looking up into Dean’s eyes. “Dean. Please look at me.”

Dean’s eyes flick away, not looking at Cas directly.

“Sweetheart, please, look at me.” Cas wants to cry.

Half-a-minute later, Dean finally looks at Cas.

“Come back to me, Dean. I can’t lose you. I can’t…,” Cas whispers, begging, crying.

Dean’s body twitches as he slowly reaches his hand to Cas’s face. Wiping a tear with the pad of his thumb.

“Cas? You - You’re crying. What happened?” He glances around the room. “Why are we on the floor? Are you hurt?”

Cas embraces Dean. “Dean, baby, I love you so much.” He squeezes with all his strength.

“Ungh… Cas… Can’t breathe.”

“Shut up and let me love you,” Cas laughs out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for staying with me and this story.   
> We still have ways to go. ;)  
> I appreciate your kudos and comments. Feedback is like oxygen!


	20. Blue Jeans and Black Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night if the Gallery opening.  
> Castiel is in quite a mood, will Gabriel be able to deal with Cas's antics?

Castiel refuses to wear the tux Gabriel brought down from Cas’s closet in the big house. He does concede to Gabriel hiring them a car for the evening. Both of them will likely partake of the wine which is always served at these events.

Heads turn as they enter the gallery. Castiel smirks as Gabriel groans.

“You knew this was supposed to be black tie. You’re such a shit.”  Gabriel hisses.

Castiel grabs a glass of wine from a passing waiter, shoving his free hand in his jeans pocket as he strolls through the lobby.

“Such a shit,” Gabriel repeats, shaking his head and following Castiel.

Spying Crowley, Castiel makes a wide berth, circling the room instead of heading straight to the man.

Crowley notices.

Gabriel is torn between following Castiel or going to talk to Crowley. He decides to find the buffet.

Castiel makes his way through the various displays. There are works by several artists that he knows, so he stops to speak with a few of them.

They, too, are taken aback by his ensemble. Boots, jeans, plaid overshirt and a Metallica t-shirt.  He’d gone all-out tonight.

A few of the artists are in simple dark suits, but all the guests are dressed to the nines.

A sense of pride swells up in Castiel. He positions himself so he can take a selfie with a good crowd behind him. Making sure to capture his outfit and a few discerning looks from the patrons. He saves the photo, excited to show Dean.

They had talked about this event and how fancy it was meant to be. Dean had become concerned about visiting the gallery because he was not used to fancy places and thought the people would make fun of him. Cas tried to assure him that only the exhibition’s opening event was for dressing up and that jeans are acceptable at the gallery.

Dean didn’t believe him and wanted Cas to cancel the tour. So, he promised to wear jeans and prove himself to Dean.  Dean had kissed him and begged him not to get in trouble on his account.

“Castiel…”

Startled out of his thoughts, Cas notices Crowley standing right beside him.

“Crowley.” He replies, thankfully without his voice cracking and giving him away.

“Do you not own any adult clothing?”

“I’ll have you know, this is a well-thought/out ensemble, in solidarity with a dear friend.”

“Ah, Crowley, good evening.” Gabriel joins them, shaking Crowley’s hand.

“Well, I see your manager understands Black Tie. Good evening, Gabriel.”

“Oh, Crowley. I’m just a lowly artist; no one cares what I wear,” Cas recalcitrates.

“You are the headline artist, and you are an impudent child,” Crowley growls.

Castiel grins and finishes his wine, searching for another waiter. He has won a battle of wits against the smarmy English prick.

The rest of the evening proceeds without incident, which, considering that Castiel is never without a fresh glass of wine, is a miracle in Gabriel’s eyes.

Castiel is able to greet the guests and discuss his work with the candor of a sober man. Gabriel only notices how bad Castiel is listing when he follows him to the men’s room.

“How much have you had?” He confronts him as Cas fails three times to get the paper towel dispenser to work.

“Obviously not enough… ‘cuz we’re still here...” he grumbles as he looks up into the dispenser.

Gabriel moves him out of the way and waves his hand in front of the little red light and gets them both paper towels.

“Yea, well, I’m cutting you off.”

“Don’t cut me, bitch!” Cas giggles, pushing past Gabriel to exit the men’s room.

Gabriel grabs his arm, turning him back so they are face to face.

“What is your problem tonight?”

“No problem.” Cas waves his hand in the space between them.

“I’m the ‘Headline Artist’ so this ‘child’ is impotent… im-potent….im-... you know the fuck I mean.”

“You’re wasted. Time to go home.” Gabriel pulls out his phone and calls their driver.

“‘Fraid ‘m gonna ‘mbarrasse you?” Cas leans right into Gabriel’s face.

“Not giving you the chance.” Gabriel shoves him into a stall and holds the door shut. “The driver will text me when he is at the door. Do you think you’re going to be okay?”

“Lemme out, Gabe!”

“Not until you calm down.”

Castiel sits on the toilet. “Fine,” he fuffs, sounding like a very spoiled brat.

“Gabe?...” he voices a moment later.

“Yeah, Cassie.”

“I really love him, ya know?”

“You sure this isn’t one of your projects, Cassie? Like the dog shelter, or knitting for the homeless?”

“Please lemme out.” He says, much calmer.

Gabriel opens the stall door, eyeing Castiel sitting on the toilet hunched over his knees with his face in his hands.

Cas looks up, eyes rimmed red. Then, scowling at Gabe, he answers, his mind working slowly, so his answers seem out of left field.

“No.” He drops his head releasing a heavy sigh. “Yes”

“Which is it?”

“No. Dean is not a project. Yes, I think I need some fresh air anyway. Let’s go out front to wait for the car.”

“And if we meet Crowley on the way?”

“I’ll be a perfect generalman,” he slurs. He may be calmer but he’s still drunk.

Gabe barks out a laugh, slapping Cas on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Gabe. I’m sorry.”

They do meet Crowley, mid-way through the lobby.

“Leaving so soon?” he inquires.

“Yes, Castiel has fulfilled his duties for the evening and we’ve both had plenty of wine and conversation for one night. Thank you for a lovely event.” Gabriel shakes Crowley’s hand, hoping to get them out the door with a cordial farewell.

Castiel stares at Crowley’s outstretched hand, unmoving.

Gabriel nudges him and he shakes the proffered hand. “Good evening” is all he can manage to say.

Once outside, Cas gives a full body shutter, wiping his hand on his jeans. “Ugh! I can’t stand that man. Uppity British git.”

“How do you really feel, Cassie?” Gabriel laughs as he maneuvers Cas into the car.

Leaning his head back on the seat, Cas’s world tilts when the car begins to move. Gabriel buckles both their seatbelts.

“‘M glad he won’t be here.” Cas slurs, not opening his eyes.

“Who?”

“Croough-leee.” He draws out the name as if it tastes bad on his tongue.

“...Where?”

“Here.” Cas breathes out, getting comfortable in the leather seat.

“Cassie, speak plain. You can pass out when we get home.” Gabriel insists.

“Mnhmmm…” Cas stretches and re-situates. “Growly won’t be here… at the gallery... when my baby comes to see my work.” Breathing out a heavy sigh, Cas is out.

“You little shit. You lined up the class outing just so you can show off to your boyfriend.” Gabriel shakes his head, not sure if he should be proud or disappointed. Proud, definitely. Bringing a new love interest to a fancy gallery that happens to be showcasing your is art a sure way to get a guy laid.

Cas has never had to work to impress a date before. He’s always had models and journalist and fans falling all over themselves, sometimes fighting each other, to get his attention. His notoriety and his good looks have always been all he needed to get someone in his bed.

Gabriel watches Castiel sleep on the ride home. Wine always lulls Cas to sleep like a baby being rocked by his mother. The motion of the car helps.

He knows Cas has been under a lot of stress lately and his outbursts are proof of that.

Gabriel manages to get Castiel to his bed without breaking anything or dropping him. Although he does knock a few things over on the way through the studio. Cas is barely alert enough to shuffle his feet, Gabriel holding most of his weight.

“This is why you let me hire the car… you wanted to get drunk. You are such a pain in my ass.” He pulls off Cas’s overshirt, boots, and jeans.

Leaving a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of water on the nightstand. Gabriel heads to his own room.

Thunder wakes Castiel. Startled, he looks around the room. He’s home, in his own bed. Noticing the water and aspirin when he looks at the clock. A pang of guilt hits him hard. He acted a fool last night.

Downing a couple of pills and half the water, he sees that it’s eleven-thirty. His stomach growls, so he decides to order an apology pizza for lunch.

He takes a quick shower before heading up to the house. It’s raining so he doesn’t bother to dry his hair.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Gabe calls out loudly.

Cas winces at the throbbing in his head.

“Gabe, I apologize for my behavior last night.”

“Really? You sure you’re not just sorry about the pounding hangover that I’m sure you have?”

Slumping into a seat at the breakfast bar, Cas runs his hands through his still damp hair.

“That too, but I am trying to apologize here, Gabe. I know I acted horribly last night. It was uncalled for.”

“Ya think?!” Gabe slams the refrigerator door. “Do you think you’re so entitled that you’re above all those around you?”

“Wha?… Gabe…”

“No, Castiel! Last night was the worst you’ve ever behaved in your life... at a gallery opening ... or any event. Jesus, you acted like a spoiled brat. You were completely disrespectful!” Gabriel was shouting now. “You got plastered, for fucks sake! Castiel, you have never allowed yourself to get drunk at an event, not even at a dinner or having drinks with a potential client. What the hell!?”

“Gabe… I - I’m sorry.”

There is a knock on the kitchen door. Gabe glares at Cas, who gives him a sheepish look.

“I- I ordered us a pizza.” Cas tries to explain in apology.

“You ordered a …. Great… Wonderful.”

Castiel opens the door and is face to face with Jay.

“Y-Y-You…” Cas stutters.

“Heya, Castiel. Gonna let me step in out of the rain?”

“C- -uh…” Deciding to just step out of the way, allowing Jay to enter the kitchen.

“Hey, Gabriel.” He greets as he places the pizza box on the counter.

“Hi, Jay.” Gabe gives a wave. Looking between the two men and trying to figure out what is wrong with Castiel.

Jay gives Castiel a full body once over. “Lookin’ good, Castiel.” He winks.

Cas digs into his pocket for money. Holding out two folded twenties.

“Th-thanks.” He manages.

Gabriel narrows his gaze at Castiel, considering the interaction between them.

“You paid online, Cas.” But Cas shoves the money in Jay’s hand.

“Not as good a tip as last time, but thanks.” Jay purrs as he slinks past Castiel toward the door, his hand obviously groping Castiel’s dick.

“G-G-G-” Cas stares at Jay.

“Did you break him?” Gabe asks, starting to freak out a little at Cas’s reaction.

“I think I may have,” laughs Jay.

Cas takes a step back, shaking his head. He glares at Gabriel.

“Holy shit!” Gabe exclaims.

“What?!” Both Jay and Cas ask, startled by the outburst.

“YOU!” He points at Jay.

“ME? What’d I do?”

“You look just like his boyfriend!”

“You have a BOYFRIEND?”

“I do… I didn’t… Not… That was before…”

Jay stares daggers at Castiel. “Dude, I don’t condone cheating. That’s just messed up.”

“Holy shit!” Gabe blurts out again. “You guys did the do!”

“No!” Cas answers too quickly and quilty.

“Naw, but he did give me the best blowjob I’ve ever had… I’ll never be the same….” Jay teases. “Poor guy was so plastered he couldn’t even get hard.”

He directs his attention back to Castiel. “So, I look like your boyfriend, huh?”

“Oh, he’s been pining over this guy for months. Finally got the courage to make a move.” Gabe interjects.

“Months, huh? You didn’t seem to have that trouble with me…”

“Jay… I…” Cas swallows hard, not sure what to say, he didn’t expect this kind of reaction to seeing Jay, nor did he expect this from Jay. They had parted amicably, hadn’t they?

“Naw, Castiel. It’s alright.” Jay places his hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Jay, I wasn’t in a relationship at the time. I’d only just met him, it was just a crush.”

“Do I really look like him?” Cas’s cheeks heat up. “Awe, dude.” Jay smiles, bringing Cas into a hug. “He’s one lucky bastard. You for a boyfriend, and my handsome good looks!”

Cas pushes Jay off, grinning and trying not to laugh.

“So… his name is Dean huh?”

Cas stills. neither he nor Gabe mentioned Dean’s name.

“Dude, Jay sounds nothing like Dean, and you kept calling me Dean. I first thought you were just too drunk to remember my name or something. Turns out you were thinking of him while you had my dick in your mouth.”

Cas’s eyes are as big as saucers, his mouth gaping open, he can’t move.

Gabriel falls off his chair, laughing.

“Castiel, dude. It’s okay. Really.” Jay shakes Castiel.

“I was just teasing you about the cheating thing…. Do you know how many housewives wanna fuck the pizza guy? … Castiel?”

“You’re not upset?” Cas finally asks.

“No way. You’re not gonna stop ordering pizza from us, are you? ‘Cuz that would suck.”

Castiel breaks out in laughter, hugging Jay. “Oh my god, you’re amazing Jay.”  Cas looks him in the eyes. “Don’t ever change.”

Jay gives him a big goofy smile. “Sure thing. Oh - I gotta go. I got more deliveries.”

“Bye, Jay. Thank you!” Cas calls as Jay runs to his car.

“You blew the pizza man!?!” Gabriel howls from the floor.

“Fuck you, Gabe. You want a slice or what?”

Gabe grabs a slice and sits across from Cas.

“So… who’s better?” Gabe waggles his eyebrows at Cas.

Cas tosses a piece of pepperoni at him. “Shut up.”

“Really? Oh… You … You haven’t slept with Dean! Who are you and what have you done with Castiel?”

Cas stares, trying to implode Gabe with his mind.

“Ouch! Cassie, if looks could kill.”

“Yeah, well, I tried.”

“Cassie, this sounds like serious, like for real, grown-up relationship shit.”

“Yes, Gabe. I’ve told you. I love him, he loves me, too. I mean he actually needs me. I’ve never been needed by anyone before.”

“Did you tell him… that you love him?”

“Yes.”

“And he said it back? And you weren't mid-coitus.”

Cas glares. ‘Did he? Did Dean ever say that to him?’ He replays several of their conversations.

“He.. um…”

“You might want to be sure before you go off risking your livelihood on a piece of tail that might turn out to be nothing more than a distraction.”

“The fuck?!” Cas shoves the pizza box at Gabe. “To hell with you, Gabe!”

He storms out of the kitchen, slamming the door. Stopping halfway to the pool house, he stands in the pouring rain. Lightning strikes a tree in the corner of his property. The resulting crack is so loud, so close, it jolts through his body.

He shouts profanities up at the sky as the thunder rumbles, the heavens seem to be arguing back.

Falling to his knees, he continues his shouting match with the thunderstorm.

“He does love me!” Boom! “He needs me, we can be happy!” Flash! “I love him!” Rumble! “I need him!” Lightning strikes the ground a few hundred feet away.

“OH GOD! I NEED HIM!”

“Cas! Cas! Stop!” Gabriel shakes the distraught, soaking wet man. “Cas! Come back inside!” Gabe shouts over the thunder.

Castiel doubles over, gripping handfuls of wet grass, his forehead on the rain-soaked ground. Still screaming, wailing, no longer able to form words through his tears.

Gabe pulls him off the ground, aking him in a direct path back into the house.

Using a few dishtowels, he begins to dry Cas. Running upstairs he grabs bath towels and some dry clothes. He changes before heading back down.

“Put these on.” He hands Cas a t-shirt and sweats.

Stripping out of his wet clothes, Cas follows Gabe’s order and puts on the dry clothes.

“Cassie… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You... You’ve never... been in a serious relationship. How was I to know?”

“I told you.” Cas manages through his sobs.

“Cassie, you’ve ‘loved’ all sorts of people … as long as you were getting what you wanted from them.”

Cas gasps at the insinuation.

“What? It’s true. You have always been a love’em and leave’em - or get them to leave - kind of guy.”

Cas opens his mouth but staps it shut. Trying to come up with a retort.

“Balthazar! I was with Zar a whole year!” He manages, thinking that will prove he’s not a terrible person.

“Zar spent most of that year abroad. You saw him, maybe four times in person.”

“But…”

“Dude… You couldn’t even keep it in your pants for him. You skyped him during a damn orgy.”

‘Yeah, that was fun.’ “We had an open relationship…”

“You were fuck buddies when he passed through Dallas - fucking-airport. “

“Jesus…” Cas thumps his head down on the counter.” … I’m a damn whore.”

“You, my friend, are a sexually active, attractive, young male of the species. I think whore is a little strong… slut, maybe?” Gabe laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

“But, Cassie. You haven’t slept with Dean.”

“So… What? You think I’m losing my slut appeal? He grumbles into the countertop.

“Dude, who is the last person you’ve had a relationship with that you didn’t sleep with?”

Cas leans up. rubbing his red forehead. “I don’t know… You?”

“Exactly!”

“I’m missing something here… what are you saying? You want me to fuck you?”

“Jesus, Castiel! NO!” Gabe gags at the thought. “You have been with Dean for what three - four months? You haven’t fucked, and you still want to be with him. That’s a record. I believe you really do love this guy.”

Cas gapes at Gabe, his hands drop, flopping hard on the counter. He stares at his friend in disbelief.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck? Gabe…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Seriously? You stupid Ass. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you...

I LOVE DEAN WINCHESTER.”


	21. Field Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day finally comes for Cas and Eleanor take the art class on a field trip to the Art Gallery where Cas's work is being showcased.  
> Ten mental health patients and a few orderlies... surely no one in a group like that would cause any trouble in a public venue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab a slice of pizza and enjoy the field trip... ***wink***

Dean sits on the bus tightly holding Cas’s hand. This field trip is the first time he’s traveled outside the Center in over a year. Dean’s tense grip is causing Cas’s fingers to go numb.

“Dean, sweetie, it’s going to be fine. Can you… maybe, loosen your grip… just a little?”

“Oh, God, Cas… ‘m sorry.” He raises their hands and kisses Cas’s fingertips.

“I can’t feel that.” Cas deadpans. Dean rubs his hand to help the circulation.

“Look! Look! There it is!” shouts Aimee. “It’s the gallery! We’re here!”

The excitement is electric, pulsing through the patients and staff alike. Conversations are buzzing across the aisle and over seatbacks as the driver pulls up along the curb in front of the  gallery.

“Castiel and I will go in and make sure our guide is ready and all preparations are complete.” Eleanor shushes the busload.

They are a large group. It is not only the ten patients, but there are also six orderlies and a nurse accompanying them.Eleanor had tried to plan for any occurrence.  So, their group is nineteen members strong. 

A few minutes later, Cas and Eleanor return to the bus, joined by a pretty, young, blond woman.

“Good morning, everyone. My name is Claire. I will be leading your tour of the gallery. If you have any questions or concerns while you are with us today, don’t hesitate to speak to me or any of the staff. All of our staff members are clearly distinguishable by their vest and name tag.”

Castiel begins passing out the guest badges to everyone on the bus.

“Please wear these lanyards at all times. They have your name and the information to contact Castiel and Eleanor in case of emergency.” Claire instructs.

“The lanyard is cool, too,” Garth says with a smile.

“You may keep them as a souvenir if it’s allowed by Ms. Novak.” She gives the woman a look to check her response.

“I’m okay with you keeping them.” She gives the patients a knowing look. They all understand that look, and it means they lose their souvenir if they don’t follow the rules.

“Yes ma’am,” Joshua answers for the group. “We understand.”

“Alright. Does everyone have a buddy?”

The group disembarks and lines up on the sidewalk, with their chosen buddy. Eleanor leads them all inside where they gain two additional guides who Claire introduces as Steve and Becky. With the three guides and the hospital staff, they can break into smaller, more easily managed groups.

Claire stays with Castiel, Dean, Aimee, and Joshua, along with two of the orderlies.

Steve leads Ed, Harry, Ruby, Eleanor and two other orderlies.

Becky has the remaining group of Garth, Ash, Rufus, and Marv, as well as  with the nurse and the two remaining orderlies.

Castiel has already seen all the exhibits and knows most of the artists. His excitement comes as he watches Dean and the others’ faces light up as they move from piece to piece. His gaze lands on Joshua whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Thank you, Mr. Novak. I have never before had the chance to visit such a magnificent gallery.” Castiel leans down and hugs the overwhelmed man.

“I’m glad to be of service, Joshua.” He smiles, genuinely happy to see this dear man happy.

“You truly are an angel, Castiel,” Joshua whispers.

Before Castiel can respond, he hears Dean asking him a question.

“Cas? Do you really know these other artists?”

Looking at the particular painting Dean is studying. “Yes, this one is by Kyle Steed. He did the large mural along the Trinity Strand Trail in Dallas. In the next room, my friend Kitty Welsh has some beautiful landscapes. 

I believe Eleanor’s group will see the work of Cruz Ortiz in the first room they visit. It’s fantastic to have some of Texas’ most renowned artists under one roof for the exhibit.”

“And yours, Cas. I bet your stuff is better than any of this other stuff.” Dean takes Cas’s hand as they stroll along the displays.

“Oh! There’s 3D stuff, too!” calls Aimee as she circles a drippy blob looking thing.  


“Yes.” Claire regains her rightful place as tour guide.

“Dan Lam has a few pieces in the exhibit, although he is unable to attend due to another engagement in Europe. We also have several not-so-famous artists in the show. There is a room dedicated to local High School students.”

“You have work done by kids?” Dean stops abruptly, jerking Cas’s arm back.

“But… they’re just kids. Nobody cares what kids do…,” he eyes Cas. “... do they?”

Cas steps into Dean’s personal space, placing his free hand on Dean’s cheek. “Yes, Dean. Some people do care about kids.”

“Um.. yeah… I knew that. I - I just forgot…” Dean stiffens, his eyes shifting, remembering that most people aren’t as fucked up as him.

“It’s okay, Dean.” Cas still has his hand on Dean’s cheek, so he kisses him on the other one. “Are you okay now? Ready to move on?”

Dean’s face heats with a blush. “Yeah, but this Kyle guy does some cool stuff.” He smiles shyly at Cas; he knows that Cas understands him.

Aimee grabs Dean’s free hand.

“Come on, Dean. Don’t get sad. The day is just starting. We have lots of pretty paintings and statue thingies to look at.”

“Aimee’s right,” Claire announces. “This next section has most of the sculptures and 3D art from Austin locals.”

Claire leads the small group through the exhibit, explaining details about the art and the artists. She stops a few feet away, talking to the other guides on her earpiece. She turns back to Castiel.

“The other groups are doing well, Mr. Novak. Everyone is enjoying themselves. One group is already in the main hall and asked if we can all join them for a few minutes.”

Cas knows why, that’s where his series is displayed. Eleanor had mentioned taking a group photo.

“Sure, we can complete the tour after.” He understands but wishes that this was just he and Dean enjoying a pleasant stroll through the gallery.

Sighing, he tugs at Dean. “Come on.”

“Hm-mmm…, “ Dean stands stiff, eyes wide, staring down at his side where Aimee is still holding his hand.

Cas realizes that Dean hasn’t moved or spoken since the woman leached on to him. Taking a deep breath, Cas looks at her.

“Aimee. Let Dean go.”

She shakes her head and continues to hold Dean’s hand.

“Mnn… C-Cas…,” Dean whimpers, he hates that Aimee grabs at him all the time.

“Aimee, would you like to hold my hand and walk with me?” Joshua offers, holding out a hand to her.

She looks from Dean to Joshua to Castiel.

“Please? I feel left out with these two always holding hands like little love birds.” Joshua says with a grin.

“Me too, Joshua. They have each other, and I don’t …” She slowly lets go of Dean and takes Joshua’s pre-offered hand.

“Your hand is nice and warm, Joshua.”

“Shall we continue to the main hall?” He gestures to the archway between rooms.

“Thank you, kind sir.” She answers as the two of them follow Claire to meet the others.

Dean’s whole body relaxes as soon as she lets go of him. So much so that Cas grabs him by the shoulders, afraid he might collapse.

“Dean, are you okay?” Cas worries over his boyfriend.

“Kiss me, Cas?” he whispers.

Cas slips his hand to the back of Dean’s neck, his fingers petting the hair on the nape of his neck, which is getting long enough to touch the collar of his jacket.

Dean closes his eyes as Cas leans in, their lips meet, the kiss soft, gentle, chaste enough for a public place.

Cas breaks the kiss and Dean sways, chasing after his lips. Opening his eyes, he sees Cas smiling at him.

“Thank you, Cas.”

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean sneaks one more kiss before Cas tugs him toward the main hall.

“He’s here!” Ed calls out when Castiel and Dean enter the room.

Applause erupts through the group, and there are “whoops” and “Good job” and “Congratulations” called out.

Castiel stops, shocked and slightly confused. “You all knew that I had work on display…”

“All your paintings are marked SOLD!” Ash pipes up.

“All of them?” Asks Castiel. “They… Really? All of them?”

Castiel's work is a commissioned series, but somewhere along the line, there were legal issues with the funder and only four of the eight were paid in advance. Cas let Gabriel deal with all the legalities. That was not Cas’s area; he focused on the paintings. All the preliminary work was complete by the time the legal battle began, and Cas didn’t want to stop mid-series. He worked twice as hard to complete all eight before the original deadline.

Dean pulls Cas over to join the group and stands back as the others congratulate Cas. He wraps his arms around himself and smiles as he watches Cas graciously accept the praise. He loves to see Cas happy.

Steve gets everyone's attention so he can take a few group photos. There is a lot of shuffling, posing and silliness, but they capture a few good shots. Eleanor plans to post them on the bulletin board as well as on the Center’s website.

The group once again disbands into the same smaller groups so that they can complete the full tour.

“Cas?” Dean says after studying one of Cas’s paintings for a few minutes. “You sure you painted these? I mean, I can tell that you painted it, but it looks so real like a photo or something.”

Smiling, Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s waist from behind, resting his chin on Dean shoulder, so they can both look at the painting.

“Yes, Dean. I painted them. They look ‘real’ because that’s the style I used, realism.”

“That Ortiz guy. His portraits are really different. They’re … impressions, right?”

“Yes, the ones displayed are in the impressionist style. Very good.” He smiles and kisses Dean’s cheek.

“Can we go see the kids’ stuff now?”

Cas gives him a squeeze. “Sure, baby. Anything you want.”

“Claire, shall we move on to the student’s section?” Cas asks their young guide.

Claire leads the small group through another display on the way to the High School students section.

Dean stands in the middle of the room, slowly turning, taking in all the examples around the room. “Kids did all these?”

“Yes, Dean. We held a competition and asked each school to invite students, eighth grade and up, to contribute,” Claire explains.

Dean moves from piece to piece, eyes wide in amazement. He tentatively reaches out, but jerks his hand back, glancing at Claire.

“I’m sorry, I won't touch it. It’s just so...awesome.”

“These kids are pretty  _ awesome _ , as you put it,” Claire replies.

“There’s so many different styles,” he whispers.

Cas watches as Dean absorbs the beauty of the art surrounding him. As much as he has liked the other works, including Cas’s work, Dean is enraptured by the art of the students. Cas thinks like he might burst as he watches Dean. He looks like a child on Christmas morning.

“I - I didn’t know… I used to…” He starts and stops, unable to complete a thought much less a sentence.

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas checks. Dean doesn’t seem anxious or transfixed, his eyes are moist with a threat of tears, but he doesn’t look upset.

“Yeah…,” he breathes, smiling sadly at Cas.

“These kids get to draw, and paint, and make pretty things…” A tear escapes. “Cas…”

Walking over to him, Cas holds Dean’s hands and kisses his palms.

“Cas, I never got to do this stuff. I never got to be a kid, not really.”

“I know, Dean. Please, don’t let it upset you. You’re having such a good time.” He embraces Dean, wanting to wrap him in security and love.

“I’m okay. I’m happy, here, with you.” Dean sniffs, squeezing Cas.

“I’m glad all these kids get to take art classes and do all this cool stuff.”

“Me too, and hey, you get to take art classes and do cool stuff now, too” Cas rubs Dean’s back.

“Yeah, I do.” He pulls back and smiles at Cas. “Better late than never, huh?”

“Mr. Novak.” Claire quietly interrupts. “It’s time for the group to meet in the lobby. It appears that the bus is out front to take you to lunch.”

“Oh, thank you, Claire.”

The group gathers at the entrance as the orderlies make sure that all the patients are present.

“Claire, Steve, Becky, thank you all for your assistance today. The tour was exciting and educational, and everything was so well organized. You are all extremely knowledgeable young people,” Eleanor acknowledges.

“We’re glad you were all able to visit and that everyone enjoyed their time here at our gallery. We hope to see each of you again. Have a wonderful lunch,” Claire thanks the group. Becky and Steve join in the good-byes, there are handshakes and hugs as the group climbs onto the bus.

Once everyone is safely settled on the bus, Eleanor sits across from Cas and Dean.

“That went exceptionally well.”  She rests her head on the seatback. “Now… onto the lunch adventure!”

 

They have a room reserved at a pizza place, ordering a buffet of pizzas, pasta, salad, and soft drinks for everyone.

Cas didn’t realize which restaurant they were eating at until he walks in and sees the uniforms. “Shit.”

Jay is loading a thermal pizza box carrier for deliveries. When he turns, he sees Cas walking in the door.

“Heya, Castiel. You never come in for pizza. I feel honored.” He smiles at Cas.

“Um, hi Jay.” Cas greets, and Dean tightens his grip on Cas’s hand.

“Jay, I’d like you to meet Dean. Dean this is Jay, he often delivers pizza to my house.”

Dean doesn’t let go of Cas’s hand, and he pulls him closer.

“Wow, Castiel. He’s even better-looking than I thought he’d be. But you do have good taste.” Jay grins and winks at Cas.

Dean’s jaw tightens. He wants to snap this smartass in half for flirting with Cas.

“Whoa, dude. It’s chill, me and Castiel are totally chill. You ain’t got nothing to worry about here, man.” Jay holds up his hands in a show of surrender.

“Humph,” Dean glares at Jay.

“Dean, let’s go get a seat with the others.” Cas pulls him toward the private room where the others have already begun to attack the food.

“Nice to see you, Jay. Take care, drive safe,” he calls. Dean frowns and stares at him.

Abruptly changing direction, Cas pushes Dean into the men’s room instead of pulling him into the dining room, quickly checking the stalls. Cas pushes Dean up against the door, (damn thing doesn’t have a lock) pressing himself on Dean, he kisses him, all messy and needy.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that all morning,” he says as he dives in for more.

Dean grips Cas’s shoulders and gives as good as he gets. Their tongues battle for dominance.

Cas’s hands make their way to Dean’s waistband, and he undoes the button. Dean sighs into his mouth. Cas slowly unzips Dean’s jeans, the knuckle of his thumb press against Dean’s half-hard cock.

Dean shivers and nods. “Cas…,” he whispers, his breath fast and hot against Cas’s face.

“I love you so much, Dean,” Cas says as he nibbles Dean’s jawline and down his neck.

Cas kneels in front of Dean, pulling his jeans and boxers down as he moves so Dean’s cock is free.

The cool air hits his heated flesh. “Oh, God, Cas…,” Dean moans.

Cas takes Dean’s cock in his hand, and he can feel it hardening with just his touch. He kisses the tip, tasting the precum as he licks the slit. Dean moans louder when Cas begins to stroke him until he’s fully hard.

Cas wraps his lips around the head and sucks, allowing the saliva to build up in his mouth. He sinks down the shaft, humming his approval and delight. His higher brain functions flickering at the thought of having Dean’s cock in his mouth, nothing else registers. Nothing except the sounds Dean is making above him.

He begins to bob his head, licking and sucking up and down Dean’s hard cock. Unlike other blowjobs he’s given before, Cas is actually enjoying this. Dean tastes like heaven and is as smooth as silk on his tongue. He loves the musky scent he breathes in through his nose each time he comes up for air. He loves the feeling of Dean’s cock hitting the back of his throat, and he wants more. He wants Dean to fuck his mouth.

Popping off, he looks up at a blissed-out Dean. “Fuck, Dean, you're beautiful,” he growls.

Leaning back in, he licks and sucks Dean’s sack, mouthing his balls, breathing in his scent. His fist still stroking Dean’s cock. Reaching down, Cas undoes his own pants and adjusts his rock hard cock

Dean is moaning and shaking above him, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Cas’s brain ticks off another thought: STDs. But Dean has been treated and is now clean of any communicable diseases. Pushing all worries out of his mind, Cas goes down on Dean again, relaxing his jaw and throat so he can go deep. His hands now on Dean’s hips, he grips tight and swallows around the head. He gags a little and comes up for air.

Grinning up at Dean. “Open your eyes, baby.”

Cas licks up the vein on the underside of Dean’s cock, teasing at the sensitive spot right at the base of the head. Dean lets out beautiful sound; at least to Cas’s ears, it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever heard.

Cas grabs handfuls of Dean’s ass and looks him right in the eyes. “Fuck my mouth, baby.”  His voice deep and gravelly from the abuse it’s already endured.

Dean shakes then nods his head in slight confusion, unable to speak.

Cas grips his ass, sliding one hand in close to his hole. He kisses the leaking tip of Dean's cock, licking the slit; he revels in the taste of Dean. Eyes focused on Dean’s, he completely relaxes and goes all the way down, the soft, wiry bush tickles his nose. He hums and swallows around the tip of Dean’s cock which is well past his tonsils.

“Aw… fuck, Cas…” Dean manages a few words among the litany of moans, groans and half-spoken profanities, his hips thrusting into Cas’s mouth.

Cas’s finger teases at Dean’s hole as he allows Dean to fuck into him. His own dick is throbbing, and he's so hard the elastic of his boxer briefs hurts. His tip is passed the top and leaking on his belly and the inside of his t-shirt. He hasn't felt this good in … forever.

“Cas... I’m…” His hands finally grip Cas’s hair, fingers twisting and pulling as he thrusts into his mouth. His movements start to jerk as he reaches his climax. “Cas…” he warns. But Cas doesn’t let up, and Dean comes down his throat. One, two, three hard pulses as he pulls Cas’s hair and nearly screams out his name.

Cas sucks the slit so he can get an actual taste of Dean’s come.

Dean’s fingers painfully release Cas’s hair, and he leans hard against the door, shaking and breathless. “Holy shit, Cas.”

Smiling, Cas looks up at Dean, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Wha... What about you?” Dean helps Cas to his feet.

“I - I, um, Came in my pants.” He looks down to inspect the damage.  “Not too bad… At least I had adjusted my dick up, it doesn’t look like I pissed myself…” He chuckles, and Dean lifts his t-shirt, peeking at his wet belly.

Cas readjusts his dick and wipes the cum off his belly and t-shirt the best he can with paper towels.

Dean is still leaning on the door with his dick out. Cas reaches over and pulls up his boxers and jeans, tenderly tucking him in before zipping his jeans. Dean grabs Cas and kisses him, tasting his own cum.

“Why? I thought you said no sex, not till I was better.”

“Do you want me to apologize? To take it back?” He looks Dean in the eyes, unapologetic. “I’ve been fighting the urge to do that since I first laid eyes on you, Dean. I love you, and I need you more than anything in the world, more than food, or air.” He kisses Dean, holding him as close as possible while still wearing clothes. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Cas… you … need me? Not just want me, not just as a fuck toy…”

Cas presses his fingers to Dean’s lips, shushing him. “Dean, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. My past is full of ‘fuck toys’, but I’ve never had a need this intense to have a person in my life. But, I feel a bit weird confessing my most profound love for you in the men’s room.”

Dean lets out a laugh, some of the tension of the moment released. Pulling Cas out of the men’s room and into the small hallway, they dodge a woman leaving the Ladies, and she gives them a knowing smile. They both blush and smirk at each other.

“Cas, I didn’t want to say this standing next to a urinal.” He caresses Cas’s cheek with his thumb, palm cradling his jaw.

“I love you, Cas. I’ve never loved anybody before. It took me a while to figure it out. I mean, I loved Charlie, she was my best friend. And I think I even kinda loved Bobby, ya know, like a dad. But, Cas, I can’t breathe when I think of you not being in my life.” He frowns. “I know my life is shit, and I shouldn’t expect you to share in my fucked-up-ness… If you’d never walked into that damn group session…” 

Cas cuts him off, reaching up and covering Dean’s hand with his, “But I did, and when you looked up at me, my world imploded, everything I thought I knew became a lie. My life became empty and meaningless if you weren’t going to be a part of it. Dean, I never believed in love at first sight, hell, I never believed I could love anyone. You proved me wrong.”

“Sorry? Did I break you, Cas? I tend to break everything I touch.” Dean grimaces and pulls his hand away from Cas as he shuffles his feet.

“God, NO! You didn’t break me. Baby, you mended me. Healed me before I even knew I was broken.” Cas pulls Dean in and gives him a kiss that is nowhere near PG-13.

“Um, guys.” Ash taps them both on the shoulders. “Pizza is gonna be all gone by the time y’all get in there. And, um, be warned. The walls here are not soundproof.” He slips past them and walks into the men’s room.

“Guess they prolly heard everything we did in there, then.” Dean gives Cas a worried look.

“Hmm, guess so,” Cas smirks. “Come on, let’s get some pizza before they eat it all.”

For the second time today, the room erupts with applause and cheers as Cas and Dean walk through the door. Dean hides his face behind Cas.

“Okay, okay. Now that y’all’ve gotten that out of your system…”

“And you got it out of yours!” Ruby howls. Laughter and cheers abound again.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. As I was saying, now y'all can behave and let us have some pizza.” He sticks his tongue out at Ruby.

“He’s right,” Rufus speaks up. Cas is glad someone comes to their defense.

“These boys need some food after a workout like that!” Rufus hoots with joy.

Everyone is laughing again, including Cas. He hugs Dean and proves to him that it’s all in good fun and there is no reason to be upset. With Cas’s reassurance, Dean relaxes and enjoys the rest of lunch.

On the ride back to the center, Dean falls asleep on Cas’s shoulder.

Eleanor leans across the aisle to quietly speak to Cas.

“Do you realize that the only disturbances today were caused by you?” She grins and sits back in her seat.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Art by Kyle Steed](http://www.kylesteed.com/)   
>  [ Art by Erika Huddleston](http://erikahuddleston.com/work/garden/)   
>  [ Art by Cruz Ortiz](http://www.cruzortizart.net/)   
>  [ Art by Dan Lam](https://www.bydanlam.com/)


	22. Autumn Falls... Hard.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel explores the theory of 'reverse psychology'.
> 
> Halloween brings family-friendly fun to the Center, nothing to fear when girl scouts are in charge of the party games, right?  
> Fall Festivals are fun for all!
> 
> Wait, is that a dark cloud I see on the horizon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING:** Self-harm. See end notes for special trigger warning before you read this chapter. (I put the warning in the end notes so it did not give away important aspects of this chapter.)
> 
> ### = Flashback/Memory  
> _________ = Time jump  
>  _'Italics'_ = unspoken thoughts
> 
> p.s. Happy GISH week! www.gish.com   
> Let your freak flags fly!

The weather is becoming cooler. Autumn in Central Texas comes a bit slower than it does in Kansas. Dean still runs around in a t-shirt, when most everyone else is wearing sweaters and jackets. Some mornings, he does throw on his hoodie when he goes out to the garden to sit under the big magnolia and draw.

Next week is Halloween, and the art class has been making decorations for the dining hall all month.  There will be activities and special treats to celebrate next Wednesday, on the Halloween night, and the patients' families are invited to the party.  Castiel is actually a little bit excited. He always loved the holidays when he was a boy, back when his parents were still alive, that is.

“Next, we need to make those adorable little turkey handprints, Castiel!” declares Aimee. “We can do all kinds of funny turkeys and leaves and stuff!”

“Fine, fine. We’ll do handprint turkeys,” Castiel concedes. He has been using reverse psychology to get this group to work as a team on projects over the last few weeks. It’s been working well, but now they tend to gang up on him, which is quite funny.

He had been trying to convince them to do things he thought would be fun or exciting and that would always end with grumbling and complaining. Most of the class wouldn't want to participate in the activities he suggested. So, he started pooh-poohing his own ideas and a couple of people, like Aimee, Ash or Joshua, would want to run with the idea, and when Castiel grumbled saying it was stupid, the others would chime in and start telling him that he wasn’t stupid and they wanted to try his idea…. Boom - he got his way, and the class was working together as a team. The class came together and decided to decorate the dining hall for each of the upcoming holidays. Eleanor had purchased some tempera paint and other supplies for the activities. Castiel did put his foot down and declare a hard no when it came to glitter.

During a trip to the craft store with Eleanor, she had _tricked_ him into the sparkly isle of children's craft suplies, and he complained endlessly about the evils of glitter, “That shit is evil, just a few flakes and it starts to multiply. Once you get it on you, you can never get it all off. No, just no to glitter in my class. It's bad enough that Aimee has that shit all over her journal. Have you seen her table after class - JESUS! It’s everywhere!”  She laughed so hard she had to sit down.

Cas enjoys his time with Eleanor; she is an intelligent, strong, funny woman and Cas doesn't have many people he can converse with on an adult level. Most of the people he has been involved with over the past few years are more interested in designer labels and sex. 

During one of their weekly discussions, Castiel and Eleanor had discussed the possible uses of reverse psychology and the effect it could bring with the patients, Cas wasn’t sure if he would be able to use it effectively, but he got his first chance to find out one afternoon when he was sitting with Dean in the dayroom.

# # #

A fight had broken out in the day room, and even though Dean was not involved, he completely freaked out when the orderlies came near to break it up. One of the orderlies had a set of restraints in his hand.  As soon as Dean saw the restraints, he started shaking.

“‘M bein’ good… ‘m bein’ good…” He whispered. “Cas... Don’t let ‘em…” He pulled his bare feet up into the chair and hugged his legs with one arm and made grabby hands at Cas with his free hand. “‘Mere Cas…”  The orderlies were walking in their direction since the fight happened to be a few feet from their table. Dean’s eyes were unwavering as he watched the orderly with the restraints in hand.

Cas reached across the table to hold Dean’s hand, and his eyes were focused on Dean, watching his reaction to the situation around him. When the orderly reached the disruptive patients, Dean froze. He sat there holding his breath, gripping Cas’s hand hard. Suddenly, Dean dove under the table, curling into the smallest ball his large frame would physically allow. The only sound he made was his fast, shallow breaths. His eyes tightly shut, and his face hidden in his knees. He was shaking and sweating so profusely it was dripping down the back of his neck and off the ends of his quivering short hair.

“Dean, Sweety, they’re not coming for you.” Cas leaned over, practically looking upside down at Dean.

“Shhhh…” Dean put a finger to his lips, but because of his shaking and crying, his shush came out sounding like “ch-ch-ch.”

“Sweetheart, look, they’re attending to the other men, the ones who were fighting,” Cas whispered, trying to appease Dean.

Dean just stared at him, eyes wide, jerkily shaking his head. “Uh-uh, c-c-can’t…” He attempted to whisper, but his voice just bubbled out shakily.

Cas sat up and thought for a moment. Then he crawled under the table with Dean, sitting cross-legged facing him. Not touching or speaking.

“C-C-C-Casss?...” Dean’s teeth chattered as he trembled.

“Shhh..” Cas hushed him. “We’re hiding,” Cas whispered.

Dean hugged his knees and tilted his head at Cas, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Cas looked over his shoulder to watch the orderlies take the two unruly men out of the room. Dean sat, teeth chattering, watching Cas as Cas watched the others.

“T--They g-g-gone?” Dean stuttered. Cas turned to him and nods.

“You s-s-scared, C-Cas?”

“Naw, but we’re down here now…”

“But…you ain’t scared… Why?”

Cas knew what Dean was trying to ask, but he wanted Dean to use his words and process his thoughts more completely, instead of allowing his initial fear to take control of his actions.

“Why what, Dean?” He continued to whisper.

“Why’d you…” Dean pointed between the chair and the floor.

Cas stared at him, shrugging his shoulders in a universal “I don’t understand” motion for Dean to continue his question.

Dean looked around to make sure no one is watching them.  “Why’d you get down here?” he whispered.

“It’s where you are,” Cas replied as if that would answer all questions past, present, and future.

“Cas…?” Dean spoke up, confused by Cas’s response.

“Shhh, Dean, what if something else happens? What if someone hears?” he asked, not in fear but to make Dean think.

“Cas… They ain’t gonna hurt you. You’re good, Cas.” Fixated on Cas, Dean had stopped crying and was no longer shaking.

“But, Dean, what if something else happens?” Cas repeated in a whisper. “What if the orderlies come to attend to someone else?”

Dean reached out and placed his hand on Cas’s forearm. “Cas, they ain’t comin’ for you. You ain’t done nothin’ wrong. You were just drawin’ with me.”

“But, Dean… You were sitting with me, drawing, and you got under the table…” Cas pointed out to Dean, hoping he understood the connection.

“The orderly had… I was… They… they were comin’...” Dean paused and blinked slowly at Cas for a full minute.

‘ _ There you go, babe, figure this out _ .’ Cas tried to push his thoughts to Dean.

“I knew they weren’t comin’ for me, Cas. But… I saw... I was so scared of bein’ restrained. Can you… Can you teach me, Cas?”

“Teach you what, Dean?”

“To not be scared all the time,” Dean replied, completely calm, no tears, only sincerity, and need in his tone. He literally wanted Cas to teach him not to be afraid.

“Come here…” Cas adjusted so Dean could crawl and shift, so he was able to lean against Cas, surrounded by Cas’s strong arms.

“I think that together, with Eleanor’s guidance, we can both learn how to face the things that frighten us,” Cas assured him, kissing the top of Dean’s sweaty head.

“But, Cas, you’re brave.” Dean turned his face toward Cas.

“Being brave means that you do the things even if it scares you. I’m scared more often than you would ever believe.” Cas smiled down at Dean. Watching those beautiful green orbs as Dean processed his thoughts.

“I like it down here, why don’t we stay? We don’t need to go out there to that scary place ever again.” Cas tested Dean’s reaction.

“Ever?”

“Never ever. Just you and me under the table forever.”

Dean sat quietly for a few minutes, leaning on Cas, his breathing became calm and even. He was so still and quiet that Cas thought he might have fallen asleep.

“Cas?” Dean quietly questioned.

“Yea, Babe?”

“My ass hurts, and I gotta piss.”

“But … I thought hiding under the table was forever… “ Cas pushed, once again wanting Dean to learn and figure out a different way of thinking about things.

Dean shifted, so he was facing Cas. His butt on the floor and his legs straddled over Cas’s so he could be as close as possible in the confines under the table and looked thoughtfully into Cas’s eyes.  He wrapped his arms around Cas’s neck, Cas instinctively embraced his boyfriend in return.

“Can I kiss you, Cas?”

“Of course, Dean. You don’t have to ask.”

“Well, you asked me, ya know, the first time we kissed - for real - and I never did make sure it was okay the other way around.”

“I love you so much. Thank you. Thank you for considering my feelings. I don’t want to get all serious here, but it really is sweet of you to make sure I’m comfortable with kissing, or any other level of intimacy. I haven’t had the same traumatic history or anything, but it’s still nice to be asked.” Cas smiled and rubbed his hands up and down Dean’s back. “The answer to your question is a solid yes.  Now, will you hurry up and kiss me already?” Cas smiled. 

Dean gave him a tender chaste kiss, closed mouth but overflowing with love.

Cas attempted to deepen the kiss, but Dean pulled away. Cas chased the kiss and opened his eyes slowly, looking wantingly at Dean.

“What?” Cas asked, worried.

“If you want more, then you gotta get up from under here.”

“Are you telling me to get out from under the table, Dean?”

Dean smirked. “Yea, I guess I am, Cas. You ain’t got no reason to be down here anyway.”

“Just me?”

Dean leans his head on Cas’s shoulder. “No. Not just you. I ain’t got no reason either. I ain’t no little kid anymore, and… and you and Eleanor are gonna teach me to be brave. Right?”

Cas pulled Dean in for that kiss he was chasing. Humming as he slipped his tongue past Dean’s lips and teeth, pushing into Dean as he dreams of doing in so many other ways.

“You are definitely not a child, Dean.” He moaned, aching for more contact. He pulled Dean against his chest, rocking his hips so Dean could feel how much he wants him.

“Mhhh… Caahh…” Dean mumbled into Cas’s mouth.

Pulling back Cas kissed the corner of Dean’s mouth and worked his way across his jawline, “Mmm... wha... babe?”

“My foot’s asleep and so is my ass… and if you grind into me like that again…. I’m gonna piss all over both of us.”

Cas fell backward to the floor, laughing right out loud.

“Go Baby!” He guffawed, unable to catch his breath.

“I can’t, Cas… I’m stuck… Help me?”

Cas did a backflip to get out from under the table then grabbed Dean’s legs and pulled him out. Helping him to his feet, he let Dean lean on him as they walked to the bathroom together.

# # #

Cas never believed that reverse psychology worked, but now he knows that, if used correctly, it works amazingly well.

“Mr. Castiel?...” Garth stands beside Cas, quietly trying to gain his attention, finally startling Cas out of his thoughts.

“Oh, Garth. I’m sorry. What can I do for you?” He scolds himself internally for allowing himself to drift off in the middle of class.

“I’m unable to trace my hand because Mr. Fizzles is being uncooperative.”

“Garth, would you like me to assist you?” Cas had been instructed to get Garth to speak for himself, instead of through his puppet, and for Garth to ask for help when needed.

“Yes, please. Would you assist me?”

“I would be glad to, Garth.” Cas has become close to the members of his art class over the past few months. Even Ruby has some hidden artistic talent and a bit of charm.

Turkeys are drawn and painted. Several people want to cut out some paper leaves, so Cas grabs the safety scissors and passes them out - with explicit instructions and warnings. He knows how many there are and must receive them all back, just like every other time they have used them over the past month.

Dean stares at the little scissors in Aimee’s hand. He swallows hard. He looks down at the calendar he drew in his journal.  October on one page and November on the adjacent. Blue squares, pink squares, tiny hearts and star stickers, notes to himself in his own secret code, times of appointments with Eleanor and the doctor, and one black square.  He stares at the black square until his eyes blur out of focus.

“Dean? Did you want to cut out some leaves?” Aimee asks sweetly.

“Um… I - yeah?” He startles and blinks over at Aimee. His hand shakes as he takes the tiny child-size scissors, his large fingers barely fit in the little pink handles. Aimee hands him a sheet of yellow paper with leaf outlines.

“You just cut along the dark outlines. You can do it, look at mine.” She smiles, showing him the leaves she cut out.

Dean puts the little scissors to the paper and shakily cuts out the leaves. Absolutely not looking to see how the little tool is put together and not noticing how easy it would be to pop off one of the small metal blades… ‘ _ No. Be good… Be good _ …’ he chants internally. The first leaf he cuts out falls on top of his open journal; looking down at it, his eyes are once again drawn to the black square.

“Okay.” Cas claps and gets the attention of the class. “Time to clean up. Ruby, will you please gather the leaf cutouts? Ed, will you please take the trash can around and clear away the scrap paper?”

“Cas, I’ll bring you all the scissors.” Dean offers as he holds up his hand with the small plastic tool attached.  


“Thank you, Dean.” Pleased that Dean is taking an active part in the class more and more.

Everyone goes about his or her tasks and quickly cleans the room.

Cas has plastic storage boxes for everything that they keep in the cupboard. Dean puts all the brightly colored little scissors in the box and hands it to Cas.  “They’re all there, Cas.” He announces.

Cas pushes them around, counting. “Yep, all accounted for, thank you, Sweetheart.” He gives Dean an innocent peck on the cheek.

Dean blushes and looks down at his own hands, then returns to his table to put away his own supplies.

* * *

 

Halloween brings family and friends to the Center. All the artwork is proudly decorating the dining hall along with streamers and plastic pumpkins, paper skeletons and black cats. There are games and plenty of snacks.

A few families brought their children, and a Girl Scout troop is in attendance to assist in leading the games. Overall it is quite the festival.

In general, Dean is having a good time, although he does have a fright when he turns around and is standing face to face with the clown who is there to do balloon animals.

Cas chases Dean down the hall and drags him back to the party, ensuring him that the clown was not going to come near him again.

“Cas! He has so many balloons! What if they explode? Jesus, Cas! That fuckin’ clown is lookin’ at me again.  Make him stop! Cas… “ This goes on for over five minutes. Dean won’t stop freaking out about the stupid clown.

Finally, Cas has enough and sits Dean in a corner opposite the area that the clown is entertaining the children. Telling Dean to close his eyes and wait for him to return, Cas goes over to one of the nurses and makes a simple request.

The two of them go to the infirmary and bring back four large, three-section screens. They set the screens up so that the clown has a decent amount of space and can be seen from the front half of the room but blocked from the other side of the room.

“Dean, Baby, open your eyes for me.” Dean obeys and looks up at Cas, his eyes rimmed red from crying while Cas was gone.

“What... what did you do? You were gone for like half of forever, Cas. I was afraid …”

“Shhh…” Cas leans down and wraps his arms around Dean. “I was gone less than five minutes, Dean. Don’t be so dramatic. Look…” Cas points to the screens. “Now you can’t see the clown. Does that help?”

“You put that devil in a cage for me?!” Dean throws his arms around Cas. “Thank you, Cas! You’re the best boyfriend in the whole world.” Dean peppers kisses all over Cas’s face.

“I love you too - you goofball.” Cas grins.

“Can we go get some pie now?” Dean asks.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Ash, Aimee, Ed, and Harry join Dean and Cas to play some carnival games that the Girl Scouts had set up.

Harry starts throwing popcorn at Ed when Harry loses to him at ring toss. This silliness erupts into an all-out war with everyone in the small group, including Cas, throwing popcorn ‘bombs’ at the others.

“Mr. Novak!” Cas looks up from his hiding place behind a stack of hay bales to see the head nurse glaring down at him. His laughter is abruptly cut off.

“Um… Hi?” He attempts to charm her with a dazzling smile.

She frowns and stares down at him with her hands on her hips.

‘ _ Damn, Dean was right about her. _ ’ He looks over to find the others. Dean is rolling on the floor laughing with Aimee. ‘ _ Fucker. _ ’

“I thought you were the responsible adult in this band of merry misfits.” The nurse harrumphs, turning and heading back to her station at the punch table.

Cas stands up and glares at Dean. He tries to look angry, but the smirk gives him away.

“Ooohh, shiiit.” Dean clambers up off the floor and takes off down the hall.

Just as Dean slides around the corner toward his room, Cas catches up to him. Grabbing him around the waist, he stops Dean’s forward momentum and they both spin, crashing against the wall. Breathing hard from running, they stand there face to face, laughing and panting.

Dean’s smile falls, he licks his lips. Grabbing Cas’s shoulders, he pushes him against the wall, lunging forward, Dean captures Cas’s lips with his own.

* * *

 

Thursday afternoon is dark and stormy. Eleanor allows Cas and Dean to meet in her therapy room on days like this. The room is smaller than the art classroom, and the furnishing is much softer. Cas has learned that sitting in a place that is brighter, with a more comfortable feel can decrease Dean’s reaction to the storm.  On a dark day like this, her office is a safe-haven for Dean. This technique has worked several times.

Today, however, Dean is quiet, and his drawings are harsh and intense. Cas sits close and silently watches Dean sketch.

Hard angles and dark shadows fill the pages. Gray, black, red, yellow, and that terrible shadow monster is back. Dean hasn’t drawn his ‘demon’ in over two months.

Cas closes his eyes and takes a calming breath. He needs to be steadfast for Dean because if this drawing is what’s happening in his mind right now, something frightening is looming on the edge of Dean’s conscience.

It’s obvious that Dean is not ready to talk about it, yet.

Looking back over at Dean’s book, Cas sees that the pages have smeared spots, wet… Dean’s crying.

“Dean, Baby? You okay?”

Dean sniffs and continues to abuse the paper with the black pen. Freezing suddenly, Dean jerks up and runs to the trash can. Falling to the floor, he empties his lunch into the bin.  Retching, crying and sounding quite miserable.

Cas recognizes this reaction. Dean has done this before when he touches something profound in his psyche. Last time it was the abuse of the man who bound him in a basement and raped him repeatedly. What could it be this time?

Gently rubbing Dean’s back, Cas tries to him calm down. “I’m going to get you a wet rag from Eleanor’s bathroom, okay?” Dean nods with a jerk and retches again.

Cas brings two wet rags, one to clean up and the other to place on Dean’s neck to help him cool down. He situates Dean on the sofa and takes the disgusting trash can to the bathroom, closing the door.  He’ll notify to have housekeeping clean it up later.

Sitting next to Dean, Cas pulls him tight against his chest, kissing his forehead. He’s sweaty and gross, but Cas doesn’t care, Dean needs him right now.

Once Dean calms enough that his breathing is under control, he relaxes. Cas traces his fingers through Dean’s damp hair. “Close your eyes, Sweetheart, just rest for a bit,” he soothes.

Dean does just as he’s asked. Within two minutes he’s asleep.

Cas carefully opens the journal to the page Dean was drawing on just before his panic attack. He studies the abstract shapes on the sheets. Lots of black, hard lines, jagged edges. The dark gray ‘monster’ that hides in the background of so many of Dean’s drawings.

This one doesn’t have the usual white spots for the eyes; these eyes are yellow. There’s yellow and red jumping out between the black lines as well.

He squints and lets the picture become unfocused, attempting to try and make the art speak to him, trying not to force his own idea - this is Dean’s story, not Cas’s.

So many times, Dean has shared a story about an abstract drawing, giving it life.

Cas looks out the window at the dark clouds; the storm is passing quickly. He allows his mind time to clear. Faintly in the distance, he can hear a siren. It sounds like a fire truck, he grins… firemen, he always did have a thing for firemen.

‘ _ It would be a terrible day to be put out of your house due to a fire _ .’ he ponders sadly, looking at the storm clouds, as the siren moves farther away.

“Shit.” He stage-whispers, then reigns himself in. ‘ _ Dean’s house burned to the ground when he was only four years old… _ ”

He studies the drawing again.

Black = Charred timbers

Gray = Smoke

Red/Yellow = flames

“Oh, God, Dean,” he whispers. Is it possible that little four-year-old Dean watched his home burn? His parents, his baby brother… they all died in that fire.

Cas knows that there is no chance that Dean will be able to talk about this today. Sometimes it takes him a couple of days to vocalize what he draws, the emotions being too big for him to contain.

For now, Cas lets Dean rest.

* * *

Friday morning, Dean wakes to a bright, sunny day. Everything around him is remarkably cheerful. Ruby even passes him a couple of pieces of bacon at breakfast.

Dean takes his journal and art kit out to sit under the magnolia tree. It's getting quite a bit cooler; fall is settling in on Central Texas. Mornings are chilly, but afternoons are still lovely. Dean feels the cold, dampness in the air as soon as he steps outside. He didn’t grab his hoodie, the plain black t-shirt is thicker than his white undershirts, but still not enough to combat the chill.  The hair on his arms stands up as goose-bumps raise on his arms when he shivers.

Sitting under the large, heavy branches of the old magnolia, he acclimates to the temperature. Opening his journal to the calendar he drew, his knees bent upward. He lays the book against his thighs.

He stares at the black square on the page.

Flipping pages, he studies the angry sketch he made yesterday afternoon. The one that brought everything to his conscious thoughts, that reminded him of the smell of smoke and wet burnt wood.  The one that brought up his anxiety and his lunch. The one that he hasn’t explained to Cas. No,  Dean can’t think of Cas right now. Besides, Cas is going to be pissed and will most likely hate him and never talk to him again after today.

“Fuck.”

Dean bends back the cover of his journal so that the outsides are touching. Tapping the corner of the binding on his knee, it only takes three good taps, and the small piece of metal falls out of its hiding place.

The single blade of a pair of child’s safety scissors.

Dean holds the thin metal between his thumb and index finger, studying the edges and the two little holes where the plastic was molded to hold it together, running his finger over the flat, unsharpened edge, it’s been months since the last time he cut.

He feels a tear trace down his cheek. ‘ _ Cas is gonna be so pissed, but how can he ever understand. _ ’ Wiping angrily at his watery eyes, he takes a shaky breath and shakes Cas out of his thoughts.

Looking back down at the pages of the journal which is now laying on the ground between his feet. He runs his hand under his t-shirt, tracing the long-healed scars; he leans his head against the tree trunk. Lifting the hem of his shirt, he presses the fingers of his left hand against his lower rib.

Placing the blade against his skin between the fingers of his left hand, he slowly, smoothly makes his first cut. He stiffens and hisses with the pain of his skin pulling apart  The cool air ignites the exposed nerve endings. Letting out a long breath, he calms, mind and body; this pain is a familiar escape that he hasn’t utilized in a while. It’s refreshing and mind-numbing he transcends into that fuzzy headspace so quickly. 

The second cut doesn’t hurt, there’s only pressure next to the already bleeding line above. Dean becomes light-headed by the sensation, almost like being high. He tries to open his eyes, but the drift of his mind in this state overcomes his will to do so, and he leaves them closed, breathing deep in… out... in … out… for a length of time that he is unable to track.

Blood drips down his side and over his fingers that remain pressed against his ribs. The blade has stuck to his blood-coated thumb and index finger.

Memories, images, dreams, nightmares all pass through his mind in a strange, choppy, graphic horror movie that is his life. He smells the wet grass and dirt around him, the cool breeze touching his exposed skin.

The coolness disappears. Flairs of heat spread across his skin, the wind burns. The sound of a crackling fire and his blood rushing in his ears makes his head hurt. He no longer smells grass and dirt; the smoke is too thick, and he feels like he is drowning.

He presses hard against his rib, and the blade cuts through his skin for the third time. Always Three. Three is right. Three makes the monsters go away.

The third cut is euphoric, and his mind goes blank. His hands drop to his sides, the blade falling into the grass. His head against the smooth bark of the old tree, his legs fall relaxed to the ground. To an outsider, Dean might have the appearance of an addict who shot-up and passed out. Actually, that’s just about the way he feels right now. 

The sound of birds breaks through the nothingness where Dean is floating. His head lolls to the right, and his eyes blink open. Looking up into the branches above him, he takes a moment to bring things into focus…

A blue jay sits on the lowest branch, chattering and looking down at him.

Dean lays down on his left side and curls into himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains graphic details about Dean cutting himself. It is detailed and involves the emotional side of the self-harm that goes along with the act itself. If you are triggered or upset by this, please do not read past the Thursday afternoon session with Dean and Cas. The final section of this chapter goes into detail about Dean cutting. 
> 
> Personal Note:  
> I was in a very dark place while writing this chapter (and the next one as well, fair warning). It just happened that the writing of this section of the story coincided with the death of a dear friend. He had been my best friend since we were 16 years old, I loved him like a brother. He loved me like a sister.  
> I cried while I wrote and because I love Jack and he helped me through my own self-harming years, I wrote instead of cut.  
> Jack will always be in my heart. As Jack helped me overcome self-harming, Cas will be an influence for Dean. 
> 
> Thank you for staying with me through Dean's recovery - Castiel's self-discovery - and their blossoming relationship.


	23. Pain and Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets a call from Eleanor asking him if he can have dinner with Dean, she thinks a surprise visit might cheer him up.  
> Cas is thrilled to be able to treat his boyfriend to a nice dinner of... maybe that's supposed to be tacos or enchiladas? Cas smiles as he watches Dean enter the dining hall with Ash, maybe it's not as bad as Eleanor thought.  
> The last thing he expects is to watch Dean get into a fight while standing in line for his food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pain without love  
> Pain, I can't get enough  
> Pain, I like it rough  
> 'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
> ~ Three Days Grace https://youtu.be/Ud4HuAzHEUc
> 
> I hurt myself today  
> To see if I still feel  
> I focus on the pain  
> The only thing that's real  
> ~ Johnny Cash https://youtu.be/vt1Pwfnh5pc
> 
> Even if I say it'll be alright  
> Still I hear you say You want to end your life  
> Now and again we try To just stay alive  
> Maybe we'll turn it all around  
> 'Cause it's not too late  
> It's never too late  
> ~ Three Days Grace https://youtu.be/lL2ZwXj1tXM
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. GISH took all my focus last week. :)

Eleanor watched Dean go out to the garden after breakfast; this has become his routine, Dean enjoys the outdoors, and the spot under the giant magnolia tree has become his favorite location. If the weather is rainy, he still prefers his usual window seat which overlooks the tree-lined drive.

She was concerned when he was late for lunch. Dean loves his food, and unless he’s depressed, upset, or anxious, he takes his meals without complaint. She notes how his breakfast and lunch were left less than half eaten.

After lunch, Eleanor makes a call to Castiel, sharing her concerns, and asks if he would be able to join Dean for dinner.

“He’s been quiet today, separating himself from his usual friends. Castiel, after our conversation about the drawing and his physical reaction yesterday, I think seeing you this evening would be good. You always bring up his spirit.” Eleanor requests, knowing that Castiel would be there for Dean whenever possible.

“Of course, Eleanor. I’m in Dripping Springs right now visiting a friend’s new distillery, but I can be on the road in a couple of hours and there before dinner starts.”

“Thank you, Castiel. I know Dean will be glad to see you.”

“Eleanor, is he alright? Has he had any, um, problems today? Well, other than not talking. Because that happens some days.”

“I know what you’re asking, Cas. As far as I’ve been able to observe, the only real issue today is that he was late coming in for lunch. He spent the morning in the garden with his art kit.”

Castiel breathes out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, I was concerned after his reaction during our session yesterday.”

They talk for a few more minutes about other subjects concerning the Center and upcoming activities. The conversation comes to a natural end, and Castiel once again assures her that he would be there to have dinner with Dean. 

* * *

Dean walks into the dining hall with Ash. He was late for lunch, and that had gained him a scolding from the head nurse. If he doesn’t at least go through the motions, Eleanor will find out. She’ll ask questions. Today is not a day for talking.

Reaching up to grab a tray, Dean flinches, hoping that no one notices. His t-shirt keeps sticking to the three fresh lines on his ribs.

“Dude, move it. The line’s moving.” Ash complains and elbows Dean in the side.

“Ah…” Dean tries to hide how much it hurts. ‘ _Stupid fucker._ ’

Dean hasn’t noticed Cas standing at the far end of the food line, waiting patiently to have dinner with him.

Ash gives Dean another push to urge him to move.

Dean reacts poorly. Dropping his empty tray, he turns and shoves Ash, hard, both hands squarely on Ash’s shoulders. Ash stumbles backward, tripping over the people in line behind him, and falling to the floor.

Dean is in attack mode. Standing over Ash, utterly unaware of his surroundings. Blinded by his current mood, the anxiety, the pain in his ribs, the dark cloud hovering in his mind.

One of the patients who were directly behind Ash and therefore bumped into and trampled by Ash is a large, unhappy man. The man swings and punches Dean hard in the jaw.

Dean never saw it coming and goes careening to the floor - ass over teakettle.

By the time Dean hits the floor, Cas is there. He grabs Dean and pulls him to his lap, protecting him from being hit again.

In the few seconds it takes for the whole incident to play out, three orderlies are on point and disband the fight before the man throws another punch.

Cas is amazed at how quickly everything happened. Within ten minutes of Dean walking into the dining hall, Cas is sitting next to Dean who is lying, sedated, in an infirmary bed. The last thing Cas expected today was for Dean to get into a fight while standing in line for his dinner.

Cas is holding Dean’s hand, his head laying on the mattress as he kisses each finger, it’s something he does almost unconsciously when he is comforting Dean or comforting himself in situations like this.

He notices a bitter taste on the tip of Dean’s index finger. Opening his eyes, he investigates. Sitting up, he takes Dean’s hand in both of his. Flattening out the thick fingers, he can see a trace of brownish-red under his nails and embedded in his cuticles.

Grabbing a cloth, he proceeds to wash Dean’s hands. Thinking, hoping, that it’s only paint. He checks the other side for residue and finds more stain on his left hand. Confused, Cas looks at the white cloth and sees how it's stained a familiar pink/red. That is not paint.

He stares at Dean for a few beats. His own heart begins to race as the truth sinks in.

Cas does a thorough search of both Dean’s arms. Other than dirty elbows, there is no blood or fresh marks. He moves the sheet down and grabs the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, which is crusty on the right side.

“Fuck… fuck…” Cas gently pulls Dean's t-shirt free from the unmistakably fresh wound on Dean’s ribs. Hissing as he detaches the cloth from the barely formed scabs, hoping not to wake Dean.  Cas examines the three new cuts on Dean's side; each line is about three inches in length, and the skin around them is pink and hot, the cuts look so painful. 

“Fuck, Dean… What have you done?” Cas whispers.

Cas glances around the room to make sure no one else sees this, not yet. He needs Dean to explain first.

Cas leans down and tenderly kisses each of the fevered marks. He pulls Dean’s shirt back down and pulls the sheet up, so Dean doesn’t get chilled.

“Why, Baby? Why did you do this?” He whispers as he combs his fingers through Dean’s hair.

‘ _How?_ ’ He contemplates. ‘ _Where did Dean get anything sharp enough to make those cuts?’_

Dean has to shave with an electric razor, while supervised. He’s always issued plastic utensils; he’s never around any blades. Cas runs through a typical day for Dean, all the appointments, therapy sessions, art class…

Cas jerks and stands to his feet. A sudden rush of panic makes him dizzy.

“No. Oh, God, no.” He runs out of the infirmary. When he reaches the classroom, there is a group in session.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He paces the hall for the next twenty minutes.

 The group finally exits, and he bites his lip as he impatiently waits for everyone to leave, much too slowly.

He unlocks the storage cabinet and stares at the small plastic box containing the supposed safety scissors.

“Please, God, No.”

Times moves in slow motion as he watches his hand reach up and take ahold of the box. He dreadfully walks the few steps and sits at the nearest table. Laying the box on the table top, he stares at it, too afraid to open it right away.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he opens the box and lays out the colorful little plastic scissors in a neat line in front of him.

Twelve.

They’re all here. Cas breathes out a sigh of relief.

Twelve little tools in pink, purple, blue, and green.

‘ _But if all the scissors are here… What did Dean use?_ ’

Picking up the first pair he opens and closes them a few times while he contemplates any other method Dean may have used; the scraping sound of the little blades draws his attention. Still confused, he watches his hand and the green plastic as he works them, cutting thin air. The little strips of metal that are the blades are attached to the plastic by being melted through small holes in the metal itself.

Putting the green scissors in the box, he picks up another pair and moves to put it in the box, and as he works them, deep in thought, he realizes that there is no scraping sound.

He looks at the pink plastic in his hand; turning it over he sees that there is only one metal blade.

“FUCK!” He throws the offensive plastic across the room; they hit the wall and skitter across the floor.

“FUUUUUUUCK!!” He yells until his voice cracks, clenching his fists at his sides. Bringing his hands to his head, he fists his hair. “FUCK FUCK NOOO! DAMMIT!”  He paces back and forth between the tables. “This can’t be happening,” he cries out, angry with himself, angry with Dean.

It takes him several minutes to catch his breath and calm enough to check the remaining scissors and put them away, locking the cabinet.

Picking up the not-so-safe pink safety scissors, he makes his way back to the infirmary.

Standing at the foot of Dean’s bed, Cas watches him sleep. Dean looks so peaceful, so sweet, so ... innocent in his slumber.

Hours pass and Cas stands, sits, paces, leans, and thinks; he thinks of everything he could have done differently, better.

‘ _I should have checked more carefully_.’ He settles in the chair next to Dean, holding Dean’s hand, he lays his head on Dean’s forearm. Beating himself up in his thoughts, how could he have let Dean come to such danger. Over and over he plays out scenarios of how he could have done a better job of protecting Dean. He decides to remove the scissors from his cabinet, thinks of what else in the art supplies Dean or others could use as a tool. No, that’s not fair. Denying the class supplies isn’t the way to handle this. His head spins as thoughts swim and collide, never able to settle on a meaningful choice Cas tries to change his focus and think of the best way to talk to Dean about what happened.  

Cas feels a hand petting his hair. He blinks his eyes open, did he fall asleep? Lifting his head, he sees Dean looking at him, eyes full of sorrow and unshed tears.

“Dean?”

Dean’s hand cradles Cas’s cheek, his thumb wipes at the dampness. Cas hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“Dean, why?” he pleads.

Unable to speak, Dean turns his face away.

Anger, betrayal, fear, sorrow, too many emotions fight for control of Cas. He wants to shout at Dean, but he also wants to embrace him and keep him safe.

“Baby, please, look at me?” he pleads as he reaches across Dean, laying his head on Dean’s chest, and holding him as best he can in the arrangement.

Dean slowly brings his arms around Cas, returning the embrace.

Cas relaxes a few degrees with Dean’s touch.

“I love you, Dean.” He tenderly kisses Dean’s chest right over his heart. “I love you so much.” His voice shakes as he tries to control his warring emotions.

Dean inhales sharply, and Cas knows that he’s crying as well.

They stay in the embrace as long as Dean will allow Cas to remain in the position. He waits for Dean to break the contact which, a few minutes later, he does.

Cas stands but keeps Dean’s hand in his, not ready to separate yet; he needs the touch to keep himself grounded.

“Can you talk to me?” Cas asks as he wipes the tear streaks from Dean’s face. “I know what happened, well part of it, but I don’t know why,” Cas implores.

“I found these.” He pulls the pink scissors out of his pocket and holds them out to show Dean.

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I - I let this happen, I wasn’t careful enough and you…”

Dean shakes his head, reaching out to Cas with his free hand. Cas takes his offered hand and kisses Dean’s palm.

“I only want to help you, to love you enough. But, I’m not…” Cas can’t finish, he drops his face into his and Dean’s intertwined hands and hides while he weeps.

Dean sits up and cradles Cas in his strong arms. Dean brings Cas’s face up to his and leans in for a needy, sloppy, slightly aggressive kiss. Cas melts into the contact. Dean deepens the kiss. He twines his fingers in Cas’s hair, pulling and scratching Cas’s scalp with his short nails, he slides his other hand to Cas’s hip. Dean sneaks his hand around to cup Cas’s cock. He massages Cas, but this is just a less than subtle way of trying to change the subject and get out of explaining his cutting.

Cas moans at the touch of Dean’s hand but startles and pulls away.

“Dean, wait,” He’s breathless but intent. He keeps his voice low, so no one else hears. “I can’t do this, not now. Baby, you… you cut yourself.”

Pulling as far away from Cas as he can, Dean crawls up to the head of the bed drawing up his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs; he leans his forehead on his knees trying to become small and maybe this time he can disappear. He nods his head. He can’t look at Cas.

“Can you please talk to me?” Cas begs.

Dean raises his head; his eyes still closed, he opens and closes his mouth, face strained in the attempt to speak. He lets out a sob and shakes his head, burrowing his face into his knees. Why can’t he do anything right? The guilt and shame gnaw at his mind. He draws himself up past his pillow and leans his left side against the headboard, his back more toward Cas, hiding in plain sight.

Cas knows Dean is not acting out or being intentionally resistant; this is a physical reaction to his anxiety. Something has gotten stuck in Dean’s mind causing him to freeze-up. He hasn’t had an attack this severe in a long while.

“Baby, look at me?”  Cas asks gently.

Dean looks up through his wet lashes, not raising his head more than _absolutely_ necessary.

“Where is your journal? Is it in your drawer?” Dean gives a small jerky nod, returning quickly to his imaginary hiding place.

“Okay, I’ll be right back. We need to do this.” Cas tells him, firmly but laced with kindness. Cas kisses Dean on the back of his head before turning to leave the infirmary.

When he reaches Dean’s room, he takes a moment and sits on Dean’s bed, willing himself to stop shaking, his emotions are running wild. He’s going to have to persuade Dean to inform Eleanor of his self-harm. But, before anything else, Cas needs Dean to tell him what brought this on. Dean has been doing so well lately, joining in with his art class, talking to his friends during meals, opening up more during therapy, and with Cas.

Cas had trusted him with the scissors and Dean broke that trust. That hurts.

Realizing that he is holding his pendant in his fist, Cas sits there on Dean’s bed, reeling. His eyes sting as he looks at the jade heart, the gold seams glisten in the light. Right now, his own heart is as broken as this pendant once was.

He’s angry. Angry at himself, at Dean, at the long line of demons who stole Dean’s innocence and broke his psyche.

Stepping into Dean’s bathroom, he splashes his face with cold water. Washing away the unshed tears. Steadying himself, he gathers Dean’s art case and journal. Walking back to the infirmary, to Dean, Cas is determined to learn the truth. There is healing that has to happen - both for Dean and for Cas.

Laying the journal on Dean’s lap, Cas opens the pages to the drawing Dean did in their last session. The image now spattered and smeared with blood. The sight sends a chill through Cas, but he maintains his outward steadiness. Dean stares down at the picture, at the blood. Unmoving, breathing shallow, and blinking slowly, he just stares, no emotion on his face.

Cas takes off his necklace and lays it on top of the book.

Confusion distorts Dean’s face, and he tilts his head, focusing on the item. Slowly he picks up the necklace and tries to hand it back to Cas.

“Look at it, Dean.” The words come out more harshly than Cas intended. “See how broken it was? I told you once that it was my mom’s, remember?”

Studying the jade heart, Dean gives a small downward nod.

“She was wearing it the day… The day she died. The day both my parents died.” He takes a shaky breath, sitting on the foot of Dean’s bed. “That was the day my whole world changed. I was a happy kid, my parents loved me and loved each other.”

He huffs out a sad laugh.

“We were poor, and I had no idea how poor my parents were, well not at the time. I found out that my dad only ate when we had meals together; otherwise, he saved the food for my mom and me.”

Dean looks up at Cas, uncertainty, and sadness in his eyes.

“When I woke up in the hospital after the accident, I was holding all the shattered pieces of my mom’s heart pendant. Those pieces were all I had left of her.  My Uncle took me home with him from the hospital. He wouldn’t allow me to go back to my home for any of my things or any of my parents’ belongings.”

Dean reaches out and takes Cas’s hand, kissing Cas’s knuckles and pressing Cas’s palm to his own cheek

Sniffing, Cas wipes his eyes and continues.

“I snuck out of school one day and took the bus across town to my old apartment. I knew how to climb in the window - my dad always forgot his keys. I was lucky that they hadn’t thrown everything to the curb yet. I found my dad’s pen - the one that I had carved for him, and the little black matchbox car he gave me for Christmas. Shoving them in my backpack, I went and talked to the landlord. God, even as a kid I knew how to bullshit my way through life. Anyway, I told him to send everything in the apartment to a storage unit; one that just so happened to be owned by my uncle. Well, I had my allowance from my uncle and gave it all to the guy for his trouble. Damn, I’m rambling… that’s not where I was going with all this…”

Wiping his hand down his face, he pauses, refocusing to collect his thoughts.

“This heart, this small pendant, it was shattered. I kept it hidden away in a small box for years. I couldn’t look at it; it reminded me of…  When I was an adult I met a man with a unique skill, a talent; he fixed it. The sweet little inexpensive jade heart that my Dad gave my Mom became a beautiful work of art because of the precious scars that could not have happened without the damage it took to break the stone in the first place. Dean, this,” Cas gently traces the heart in Dean’s palm, “represents my broken childhood, every emotional scar, and each piece of my life. Today, my heart feels just like this looked before that old Japanese man used kintsugi to mend it. Seeing you in so much pain makes me ache to the core.”

Cas takes a deep, shaky breath, turning to lean against the edge of the bed, he looks across the room at the drab, colorless wall. Dean can't take his eyes off the jade heart in his hand.

“Dean, Baby…” Cas turns and faces Dean, bringing one leg up onto the bed so that he can sit facing Dean. “Why? Why did you do this?” He places his hand on Dean’s side, careful not to press and cause any pain.

Dean lifts his journal and turns it to face the drawing at Cas.

“That’s… Is that your house, Dean?”

In reply, Dean turns the page to his calendar and shoves the book into Cas’s hand.

“Dean… This isn’t a game.” His frustration and lack of rest are eating away at him. He’s been existing on pure adrenaline for the past several hours, and that strength is waning. Exhaustion, confusion, and anxiety are taking over, and he’s becoming grumpy.

Grunting in anger, Dean pushes the journal towards Cas’s face, the pages hit Cas’s chin.

“Fuck. Fine!” Cas snarls, agitated at Dean, at the whole situation.

Studying the markings on the calendar, that Dean had carefully drawn, and then smeared with his bloody handprint. Cas’s stomach clenches at the sight of the blood. Not that he’s queasy or sensitive to blood, but that this is not blood from a fight or an accident, Dean did this to himself - on purpose.

Tuesdays are all colored blue, Cas knows that’s because of the art class; Thursdays are pink, for their sessions. There are little hearts which correlate with the days that Cas has visited over the past month. There are a few other symbols to which Cas isn’t privy to the meaning. Dean has a secret code for his daily life, appointments and whatever goes on in his head that he deems worthy of going into his journal.

Looking at the area most heavily covered with blood, it’s today’s date. November 2nd.  The box is colored solid black.

“Oh, shit,” it finally clicks. Cas looks up at Dean.

Dean has tears streaming down his cheeks, dripping down his neck and wetting the collar of his t-shirt. He has been sitting there silently crying while he patiently waited for Cas to figure this out.

Cas drops the book and grabs Dean, pulling him as close as possible.  Wrapping his arms around Dean, squeezing him probably too tight for his current condition. Cas can’t let go; he hates himself for being angry with Dean when Dean was in so much pain, physically and mentally.

“Shit, Dean. Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn’t have left you alone last night.” He rocks Dean and rubs his back, letting him cry against Cas’s chest.

“Please, Dean, when you’re scared or hurting… Please, please, let me know. Tell me, write it down, draw it, scream at me - I don’t care how. Just, don’t …” Unable to continue, he holds Dean tight.

A little while later, Cas isn’t sure how long, he rearranges them so they can lay down together. He holds Dean, petting his hair and gently scratching his scalp until Dean finally falls asleep.

Cas does not go home. He stays with Dean, disregarding the warnings from the head nurse, or anyone else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter takes a big turn... Cas uses his wealth and the power behind it as a tool (weapon?).  
> ;)


	24. Prince Charming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel confronts Dick Roman.

Castiel is standing face-to-face with a very unhappy Dick.

Dick Roman does not work weekends.

Castiel takes in the man’s attire, pastel yellow golf shirt, stupid plaid pants and brown loafers. ‘ _Douchebag_.’

Eleanor sits at the large conference table. “Gentlemen, please, let's talk about things calmly.” She beckons them both to take a seat.

“Dick,” she begins with a steady voice. “Castiel and I have discussed this several times over the past month. You have seen the reports and even the Board has concluded to continue the art classes indefinitely, based on the outcome. This plan also includes bringing in more local volunteers to establish classes for a larger population of the Center.”

“Yes. I am in favor of the classes and interaction with multiple instructors. That does not mean that I am in favor of this man…” Dick waves his hand in the direction of Castiel, “taking one of our patients home with him.”

“ _This_ **_man_ ** …” Castiel bolsters. “happens to care deeply about Dean.”

Dick huffs and glares at Castiel but speaks to Eleanor. “Patients are only allowed authorized home visits with family members.”

Castiel stands and slams his hand on the table. “Dean has no other family. I AM his family. The closest to family he has ever had!” Cas knows that getting angry won’t help his case, but the fact that Dick is fighting him on this feels personal.

Eleanor reaches over and pats Cas’s hand. “Castiel, let me?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Case takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax. Sitting back down, he motions for her to continue. He wants this meeting to go smoothly and for Dick to sign the authorization papers without a fight.

“While it is true that, under normal circumstances, patients are only allowed home visits with family, they are also allowed extended visits with spouses and partners.” She looks at Castiel, and he nods in reluctant agreement. “Dean and Castiel have a profound bond. Dean trusts Castiel, and that in itself is huge. That Dean feels save with Castiel is something he hasn’t had enough of in his life. You’ve seen his files, Dick, Dean has progressed by leaps and bounds with the addition of Castiel's presence in his treatment; and in his life. He has responded well to other areas of his plan of care as well.”

“Be that as it may,” Dick interrupts. “Just yesterday, the patient in question was involved in an altercation which ended with him in the infirmary and with another patient in restraints. Remind me how that is a sign of desirable behavior. And, do I need to bring up the most recent Family Sunday event?” Dick accuses.

Castiel can no longer hold his tongue. This man is too far removed from the daily happenings in the Center. Cas has dealt with egotistical bureaucrats often enough to recognize the arrogance and uncaring attitude.

“Neither of those altercations were the fault of Dean. In both cases, he was accosted and, however poorly, he reacted in self-defense. I was present yesterday and witnessed the entire scene play out, from the time Dean walked into the dining hall with Ash...”

“Now I’m supposed to take the word of this predator!?” Dick lashes out cutting Castiel off.

“PREDATOR! What the hell?!” Castiel yells. ‘ _Shit, control yourself Cas. Reign it in. This is for Dean. Disassociate, disassociate. Breathe. Treat this with calm authority, not anger. You know what to do. You have a plan._ ’ Cas splays his hands out on the table, forcing himself into a calm state, breathing deeply before he opens his mouth again.

“What kind of man volunteers his time so willingly under the guise of helping a group of underprivileged, mentally ill people - only to end up fucking one of the patients!?” Dick stands, looming over Castiel, daring him to retaliate.

“Whoa!” Eleanor jumps in. “Dick, seriously? How dare you accuse Castiel in such a way!”

Castiel stands, remarkably calm, reigning in his temper he is entirely under control. He faces Dick, staring him in the eyes with more surety and strength he has ever mustered for any cause in his life; this is the most critical personal, life-altering moment he has faced. There can be no doubt, no wavering. It is not only his future in the balance here; this whole conversation is a risk for Dean’s future here at the Center and beyond.

“You poor, sad, pathetic, imitation of a man. You strut around here like a peacock, spending other people's money on fancy parties and ridiculously expensive suits and ugly golf costumes…” Cas waves his hand at all of Dick. “There are a few things you need to understand.”

Dick opens his mouth to refute or argue - Cas doesn’t care. Doesn’t allow it. He must maintain full control of this meeting.

“Shhh.” Cas puts a finger to his own lips, shushing Dick, causing Dick to snap his mouth shut and stare gob-smacked at Cas.

Eleanor looks at Cas in amazement. She has never witnessed Castiel bring out the big guns. He has always remained gentle and reserved, allowing others to make decisions about the happenings at the Center. She stares at Dick while Castiel continues, no one has ever shushed Dick Roman in a meeting, and she watches his features and examines his reactions.

“Firstly. You are replaceable. You are not nearly as important as you think. It just so happens that I have built a working relationship with the Board of Directors to this Center, many of whom serve on other non-profit Boards that I am acquainted with, and some have served on or otherwise supported over the years. Secondly. My net worth outweighs your entire life’s speculative earnings. You have _no idea_ how much influence I can wield if I so choose.”

Castiel leans in close to Dick, lowering his voice, speaking with the authority that can only come from the rich and powerful. Something he rejects but knows full well that it is one of the few tools to which this idiot, and others like him, will respond. “So, you should show me some respect.”

Straightening back to his full height and putting more space between himself and Dick, Castiel continues.

“I volunteer because I can. And if the individuals in my class are in any way underprivileged - that is on you. I would hope that the care the patients of The Lady Bird Center for Mental Health would be the highest priority of the Director of the Center. If there are opportunities for more beneficial treatment options, I’m sure the Board would be eager to learn about them, taking the funding from _wherever_ necessary.”

Castiel directs Dick to take a seat; which he does without question. Then he leans against the table, crossing his legs at the ankle, and stares down at the man, who appears to be in shock.

“Lastly, for now… the relationship I have with Dean is one of trust, care, respect, and love. You could never understand the emotional depths it takes to build such a relationship, so I’m not going to waste my breath or time trying to explain. All you need to know is that my team of lawyers will be in touch with you - personally - if you ever try to stand between us again.”

Castiel retakes his seat.

Dick and Eleanor both sitting still, silent, shell-shocked and amazed.

“Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Dick was about to sign-off on the additional art classes.” Castiel drags the papers from in front of Eleanor, across the table to Dick.

Dick silently signs the papers.

“Thank you,” Cas states evenly. “Now, for the authorization form, stating that Dean Winchester is allowed extended, home visits with Castiel Novak. That Mr. Winchester’s supervision will be the responsibility of Mr. Novak with daily check-ins via a phone call, and Mr. Winchester’s prescribed weekly counseling session with Ms. Vizyak is to be held as usual. The dates for the visitation are clearly stated along with the address and emergency contacts. Ms. Visyak, Dr. Fritz, and Mrs. Phillips, Head of Nursing, have reviewed and initialed the document. All parties are fully aware of the remaining time Mr. Winchester must remain in the custody of the Center, as consigned by the Texas judicial system, to complete his assigned treatment. The document also states that additional home visits and outing will be allowed according to the conditions set and assessments made by the physicians in charge of Mr. Winchesters medical and psychological care.”

* * *

 Dean has been watching the door of the dining hall, and he can’t help but smile when he sees Cas walk into the room. He wasn’t sure Cas would be out of the meeting in time to have lunch with him.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean stands to greet his boyfriend nervously.

Cas doesn’t say a word; instead, he wraps Dean in a tight hug and picks him up, spinning around in a full circle. When he puts Dean down, he gives him a big kiss.

Dean can feel the dampness on Cas’s cheeks.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” He examines Cas’s eyes but finds only joy, no sadness or anger of any kind.

“We’re official, Baby!” Cas smiles. “Dick signed the papers.”

“You - You mean…” Dean plops down in his chair.  Cas sits beside him and takes Dean’s hands in his own.

“I mean that you can come home with me, anytime you want.”  Dean stares in disbelief. “You do still want this, don’t you?” Cas worries when Dean doesn’t respond.

“Y-yeah, it just… Do you? Do you really …?” The fear of rejection radiates off Dean.

Cas kisses Dean ‘s knuckles and squeezes his hands as he leans in to kiss Dean on the lips. “I want you, in my life, always.”

Dean can’t reign in his emotions, and for the first time in a long time, he is crying happy tears. “I want that, too, Cas.”

“So, you done with this… ugh, meatloaf?” Cas asks, screwing his face in disgust at the pile of formed meat product, which is covered in ketchup. At least Dean ate his green beans.

Dean looks at his tray; he’s only taken two bites of his meatloaf. “I just started, I was waiting on you.”

Cas leans close and whispers. “I thought we could stop and get burgers on the way home.”

“Cas!” Dean gasps, “You mean, now! Right NOW?!” Dean jumps up in his excitement, “Like right now-now!?”

Cas leans back in a full body laugh, nearly falling off his chair. “YES! Right now. Let's get your shoes. God, you’re barefoot, again!”

Dean takes off running toward his room, not even waiting for Cas.

When Cas reaches Dean’s room, Dean is brushing his teeth. Stepping out of the bathroom, he looks around his bedroom for a minute then looks over at Cas like a lost child, his hands draping loosely at his sides, his brow furrowed with a building anxiety, he bites his upper lip and whimpers,  “I - I .. don’t know what to do…”

“Put on a clean shirt, the jeans and sneakers I brought you. And get your hoodie.” Cas understands what Dean means by his statement, but rather than start a philosophical discussion; he wants Dean to get dressed so they can go.  They have plenty of time to discuss this change in Dean’s life.

Dean turns and walks to his dresser but stops short; frozen in the moment, his hands shaking. Cas steps beside him, not touching, but close enough to bolster Dean’s strength. “It’s okay, Dean. You’re doing fine, and I’m right here for you.”

Leaning into Cas, Dean wraps his arms around him. “Thanks, Cas.”

They stand there until Dean regains his strength and his excitement, once again bouncing around the room like an overexcited puppy as he gets dressed, he’s so excited that it takes him three tries to tie his shoes. He finally throws on his hoodie, and once again glances around his room; grabbing the only thing he wants to take with him, his art kit. They stop by the nurse's station and Cas signs out a week’s worth of Dean’s medications. Dean insists on detouring by Eleanor's office, which Cas had already planned to do but let Dean think it was his idea.

“Look at you!” Eleanor greets them with a smile. “All dressed up and ready to spend some quality time with your boyfriend.”

Dean blushes and kicks the toe of his shoe on the carpet. “I just… I just wanted to say thanks, and well…” He pulls her in for a tight, quick hug, something he has never initiated before. “Yeah, just... that.” He mumbles as he lets her go.

“Dean, dear, you deserve this and so much more. You have done incredibly well the past few months. You have impressed all the doctors with your recovery. Now, this isn’t goodbye. You’re only visiting for a few days. Remember, if you feel overwhelmed, you can call me or ask Castiel to bring you back here at any time.”

“Yeah, I know. I think…” He takes Cas’s hand, and they share a silent look. “I know I’ll be okay with Cas.”

“Well, I look forward to hearing all about the visit.” She pauses, taking in the way they’re practically eye-fucking, and rephrases her statement. “I mean, all the PG-rated exploits you two get up to this week.”

Cas burst out laughing, kissing Dean’s flushed, embarrassed face. Deans cheeks are heated, and he can’t stop smiling.

 

“Seatbelt, Babe.” Cas reminds Dean as he starts his truck.

Dean quickly grabs the belt over his shoulder and jerks, too hard, and it sticks. He tries again; it pulls a couple of inches and sticks again. He gulps and glances at Cas.

Cas sits patiently and lets Dean make the necessary adjustments.

Taking a calming breath, Dean gently pulls the seatbelt, and it glides smoothly around him. Clicking it into place, he gives Cas an apologetic look.

“I’m in no rush, Dean. We’re going to do things at your pace. Okay?” Dean nods. Cas reaches across the bench seat and takes Dean’s hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go to shift into reverse.

As they pull away from the parking lot and begin down the long, curved driveway, Dean gasps. Cas stops, checking to make sure Dean is not hurt or frightened. Tears are streaming down Dean’s face, but he’s smiling.

“Dean, are you alright?”

“Cas…” He sobs. “I've dreamed of this exact moment for almost two years. I - I never thought I’d actually…” Bringing his hands to his face, crying too hard to speak.

Putting the truck in park, Cas slides over to Dean, holding him until he calms enough to finish his thought. Dean hiccups and huffs out a watery laugh.

“I figured I’d either die in there or get transferred to a max-security cell somewhere.” He takes a shaky breath and wipes his face with the inside collar of his t-shirt. “I never thought I’d be leavin’ - even if it’s only for a week - but, leavin’ like this. Ya know, with somebody… somebody I love… who, who loves me, too. It don’t seem real. It’s just like my dream.” He gives Cas a small smile.

Cas hugs Dean tight. “Dean, it’s _very_ real, and I do love you. I love you so much it scares me.” He closes his eyes and kisses Dean, keeping it tender and chaste.

“Tell you what, you write down a list of things you’ve always wanted to do and this week we can start making all your dreams come true. How’s that sound?” Cas offers.

Dean rakes his fingers through Cas’s hair and plays with the curls at the nape of his neck, pecking butterfly-soft kisses all over Cas’s face. Pulling back, he smiles, his face still wet from his tears.

“Sounds perfect.”

Cas slowly drives down the long driveway, both sitting quietly as Dean revels in the moment.

“First dream accomplished.” Dean sighs as they pull out onto the main road.

Dean begins writing in his journal. Glancing out at the scenery from time to time as they drive through town. By the time Cas pulls into the parking lot of his chosen restaurant, Dean has two pages of bulleted items.

Cas parks and peaks at the journal, but Dean smirks and closes the book. “I’ll show you later.” He teases, Cas grins, enjoying Dean’s happy attitude.

“Hang on a sec, Cas requests as he gets out and jogs around the front of the truck to the passenger side. Opening the door, he holds out his hand for Dean to take.

Dean looks from Cas’s face to his hand a couple of times, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, this is our first official date. I want to show the world what a wonderful boyfriend I have.” Cas smiles, still holding the door and his hand out for Dean.

Dean barks out a laugh, releases his seatbelt and takes Cas’s hand. “Okay, Cas. I’m your princess - but just this once!”

Cas grins as he closes the truck door.

They walk into the restaurant, hand-in-hand. Dean shyly looks around at the decor. He’s a little worried that Cas brought him to such a redneck, roadhouse looking dive. Most of the people at the bar look like ranchers, and a few small families are sitting at tables and in booths. Dean draws himself close to Cas, casting his eyes downward, fear bubbles up in his gut. He’s been in situations like this before. Austin might be a forward-thinking city, but this is still Texas.

“Castiel Novak, you old so-n-so!” A woman calls from behind the bar. “What do you mean by draggin’ your sorry butt into my place like this?”

Dean freezes, eyes wide, clutching tightly to Cas. He wants to turn and run, but Cas seems undaunted. He clings to Cas’s arm, turning slightly toward Cas as if he could hide by being close to him and not looking at the boisterous woman, not unlike a child hiding behind his father’s legs.

“Ellen! I know, I know… I’m such a slacker.” Cas laughs and tugs Dean to walk with him. “Come on, Baby, you gotta meet Ellen, she’s harmless, just loud,” Cas whispers to Dean.

Ellen comes around the bar and meets them in the middle of the dining room, grabbing Cas’s face and kissing him on the cheek. “And who is this?” She asks eyeing Dean.

Dean freaks out a little and grips Cas’s hand hard, his eyes bugging as he bites his lower lip and looks down at his shoes.

“Ellen Harvelle, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Ellen.”

Dean slowly let’s go of Cas’s hand, wipes his sweaty palm on his jeans and reaches to shake her hand.  “Um… nice to meet y…”

But Ellen grabs Dean and hugs him. “Boy, any friend of Castiel’s is already a friend to me. I trust this ding-a-ling like one of my own family.

“Come on, now, you two grab a booth, and I’ll send out some burgers and beers.” She winks at them. Cas begins walking toward an open booth, but Ellen gives Dean pause. “You sure picked a good one, Dean. That boy is one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever met. Even with all the crap this old world dumped on him; not many would have come out the other side as golden as our Castiel.” She gives Dean a kiss on the cheek and a swat on his ass. “Now, get, boy. Your date is waiting.”

Whistling a tune as she turns and heads toward the kitchen, hollering orders at the cook as she enters.

Dean is smiling when he slides into the booth, opposite Cas.

“What?” Cas squints, tilting his head at Dean. “What did that woman say?”

“Nothin’ I didn’t already know.” Dean takes Cas’s hands and pulls him forward, leaning across the table so he can kiss his beautiful, kind-hearted boyfriend.

Cas shares the story of how he met Ellen back when he was only fourteen or fifteen years old and was selling his artwork on street corners. Cas points out a few of his paintings around the room.

“Those are some of my early pieces. I kind of think they’re crap, but Ellen says that she loves them, so they stay on the walls.” He watches Dean’s reactions (any excuse to stare at him really). “Nowadays, I bring her new pieces whenever I have some free time to slap some paint on a canvas that isn’t consigned by some rich bastard.”

“Cas, can… can I go look at them?”

Just then the waitress brings two huge burgers, a basket of fries, fried pickles, and two tall mugs of beer.

“Fuck, maybe after…” Dean stares wide-eyed at the food.

Cas laughs. “ I knew these burgers would get your attention. I’ll show you all my paintings after we eat.”

Dean dives into his burger like a man starved, humming with delight. Cas follows in kind. He loves Ellen’s food. That’s why he brought Dean here.

Cas takes a swallow of his beer, Dean watches.

“Oh, shit, Dean. I didn’t think… Will a beer cause a reaction with your meds?” Cas pulls out his phone and does a quick bit of research. XANAX, PAROXETINE, AMBIEN… Dean was only on the antipsychotics for a few months after being admitted to the Center, so he doesn’t need to worry about that. “Damn, they all give possible side effects. How long has it been since you had a beer, anyway?”

Dean looks down at his hands; shame crosses his features. “Hell, before I got arr… I mean before I got to the Center.”  Before that, beer was the least of his bad habits. He’d gone cold turkey off alcohol and drugs when he entered the Center, those first few months were hard, and he remembers spending a lot of time in the infirmary with withdrawals. “I been sober almost two years.”

Cas waves down the waitress. “Can we please get a…” He looks to Dean. “Coke?” Dean nods.

“Sure thing, honey. Be right back with that.”

“Well, Cheers to our first official date!” They toast with the beer.

Moments later she is back with a tall, icy glass of Coca-Cola.

Dean sips the beer and makes a face. “I don’t wanna be all girly or nothin’, but I think I’ll stick to my soda.”

“Do you mind if I drink your beer? I hate to waste it.” Cas asks timidly.

“Sure, Cas.” Dean scoots the mug toward Cas.

“Besides, you’re my princess today, remember? You get to be as girly as you want. But, you better finish your damn burger. You can’t ever be that girly! I’ve seen you eat!” Cas winks.

Dean laughs and grabs a fried pickle, dipping it in ranch sauce before reaching over and feeding it to Cas.

“I love you, Prince Charming.”

“I love you, too, Princess.”

 

Dean decides that he wants to ride around town for a little while after lunch.

“It all feels new to me. Even though I lived here since I was sixteen, I never really made Austin home… well, never did that back in Kansas either.” Dean watches out the side window as they drive past Town Lake.

“That’s on my list, Cas.”

“What is?”

“A home,” Dean replies, watching a lady walk her dog across the crosswalk as they sit at a red light.

“Are you going to show me your list?” Cas wants to keep Dean actively talking, even if he's not entirely paying attention at the moment.

“Maybe.” Dean teases, batting his eyes at Cas. “Do you have one?”

The light turns green, and Cas moves through traffic, taking a longer way home so Dean can see the city. “Do I have one, what?” Cas asks, keeping his eyes on the lavender Prius in front of him.

“A list, of things. Ya know... that you want to do. What do they call them?” Dean squinches up his face, biting his lip as he tries to think of the term he wants.

Meanwhile, Cas tries to maneuver through weekend traffic, letting Dean do his own thing.

“Dammit, is there ever a time that there’s not bumper-to-bumper traffic downtown?” Cas glances at Dean apologetically. “Sorry, Babe, what are you saying?”

“Bucket!” Dean exclaims.

Cas lets out a laugh. “What?”

“A bucket list.” Dean grins proudly, Cas melts at the sight of Dean's genuine smile.

“You told me to write down all the things I’ve always wanted to do. So, I am.  That’s called a bucket list,” Dean states like he’s telling Cas something brand new. “I asked if you have a list like that, but I guess you forgot about that… no big deal.” His smile fades, and he turns to look out the window, instead of at Cas.

“No... Babe. I didn’t forget.” Well, not entirely. “How about you help me start a list when we settle in at the house?”

Dean frowns at Cas. “But, it’s supposed to be YOUR list.”

“I get that, I do. I’ve just never thought about it, not like _actually_ writing stuff down. I guess I always did what I wanted…” Cas pauses. That’s not true; he’s done a lot of things, he’s had a lot of fun, but everything in his life has always revolved around his work.

“PRIUS!” Dean shouts, grabbing the dash with both hands.

Slamming on the brakes, Cas stops inches away from the lavender POS that has been braking every thirty seconds, and is now waiting to cross traffic to go to a… “Seriously, a fucking yogurt shop?” Cas leans his head on the steering wheel and lets out a relieved breath.

“Thanks, Dean.”

“You okay, Cas?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Cas looks over at Dean to make sure he didn’t just scare the shit out of his boyfriend by flaking out while he was driving.

Dean tries to hide his smile behind his hand, but his giggles get the best of him.

“What, may I ask, is so funny?”

“Whew! That was scary!” Dean points and laughs. “Your face! You look like you just saw a ghost!”

“Oh! So, me almost driving over the top of a lavender POS Prius is funny?” Cas tries to sound pissed off, but by the time he barks out _lavende_ r and _Prius_ in the same sentence, he’s fighting laughter, too. “Augh! You’re such a jerk!” Cas laughs. “I can't even be mad at you right now!” He pouts.

“Daw… But why do you want to be mad at your Princess?” Dean flutters his lashes and gives Cas a finger poke on his shoulder.

“Play it up, Princess,” Cas grumbles playfully. “I’m sick of this fucking traffic. You ready to see my place, yet?” he asks, he does hate driving in traffic. After such a long day he’s ready to be home.

“Yeah.” Dean gives Cas one of his big bright smiles.

“Thank God.” Cas sighs. Twenty minutes later they’re pulling onto Cas’s street.

“Hoooly Shit, Cas. These houses are fuckin’ huge!”

Cas slows to a stop in front of his own house.

“Wait… Are you serious? THAT monstrosity is your HOUSE?”

Sighing, Cas looks past Dean to the house. “Yep. But, I don’t live in the big house, Gabe does. He picked it out and everything.”

“What? You _really_ don’t live in your own house. And they say I’m the crazy one.” Dean winces and circles his finger at his temple then points at Cas.

Cas slaps his hand away and pulls into the long driveway and around to the garage.

“Jesus! Cas! This is ridiculous! This garage is bigger than Bobby’s house!”

The garage is indeed large, with three standard car bays plus a tall bay for a motorhome. There are living quarters above the section of car bays. The apartment is twice the size of the one Cas lived in with his parents when he was a child.

“It came with the house.” Cas shrugs, trying to play it down. “So… Do you want a tour of the big house or do you want to see where I live?”

They get out of the truck and exit the garage. Dean looks up to the back of the house and up at the garage/apartment. Shaking his head in disbelief,

“I wanna see where you live, Prince Charming.” He grins and takes Cas’s hand.

Cas laughs and kisses the back of Dean’s hand. “Well, follow me, my Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas spend a full week together.  
> Prepare yourself for an adventure, the next few chapters cover the events that happen during Dean's home visit. 
> 
> Thank you so much for staying with me through the hard parts. I think it's time for goodness and light, a perfect vacation for Cas and Dean, all the happiness and love that is possible under the sun.  
> Yeah, you really think that's going to happen.


	25. Potted Plants and Apple Cider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's first night staying with Cas. Day one of his vacation away from the Center.  
> Ready... Set... Go!

Cas rolls over, reaches out across the bed, and feels cold sheets... It’s still dark. He focuses on the clock … 3:14. ‘Ugh... Why am I awake? Wait…” He looks around the dark room, blinking his sleep-heavy eyes, trying to focus. Unable to find Dean, he turns on the bedside lamp.

“Dean? Baby? Where are you?” He can hear Dean’s fast, labored breathing, so he’s still in the bedroom, somewhere. “Dean, it’s okay, it’s me, Cas…” Slowly, Cas climbs off the bed and heads toward the sound of Dean’s breathing and hears him hiccup back a sob.

‘ _How long has he been up, aw shit, he’s crying? Why? What could have happened?’_

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Cas finds Dean crouched in the corner, between the dresser and the wall. Moving cautiously, so as not to frighten Dean further, he makes his way around the foot of the bed to Dean’s side.

“Dean, can I touch?” He asks softly.

Dean looks up, eyes puffy, face blotchy and wet; he nods jerkily.

Cas rests his hand on Dean’s shoulder, gently rubbing across his neck and shoulders.

“Did you have a bad dream?” He asks again.

Dean shakes his head and sniffs, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, then his hand on his pajama pants.

“If it wasn’t a bad dream, why are you hiding in the corner?”

Dean shrugs and hides his face.

Cas settles next to him and leans his head on Dean’s shoulder, rubbing Dean’s back with one hand and his shin with the other. “Awe, Sweetheart, I hate that you’re so upset.” Cas coos as he tries to ground Dean through touch.

Several minutes pass as they sit there quietly, while Cas continues gently massaging Dean. Dean calms slightly, breathes more efficiently, and stops crying.

“Cas?” Dean manages, voice rough and weak.

“Yeah, Dean?”

“I - I uh…,” Dean stiffens. “I maybe killed your plant.” He murmurs just above a whisper.

Cas jerks up his head and looks at the potted palm then back to Dean, his face twisted in confusion.  “It looks fine. How… What makes you think you killed it?”

Dean buries his face in his knees. “It was dark... I was lost, and.. you got lots of doors, Cas.”

Cas stares at him, still completely befuddled by what might have happened. “There are only three doors, Dean. One goes out to the studio, one for the closet and the other for… oh.”

Dean looks up at Cas apologetically, face red.

“You peed in my plant, didn’t you?”

Tears well up in Dean’s eyes again. “Cas... I’m so sorry! I was so confused… shit, shit… I didn’t …”  He chokes out his words, pleading for forgiveness.

“Dean… Dean…” Cas talks over him. “It’s okay. Really. You’re not the first - but you will be the last - person to piss in that stupid planter.”

It’s Dean’s turn to gaze overwhelmed with confusion at Cas, the plant, and back to Cas. “You just let people piss in your plant?”

Cas lays down on the floor, rolling over on his belly, to study the plant. “I think that stupid palm thrives on tomcat pee or something.” He laughs, rolling over and curling himself around Dean, kissing his bare ankles.  “It seems like anytime some guy gets mad at me, he takes it out on that poor plant.”

“I.. Cas… I wasn’t…” Dean relaxes his body and nudges Cas to scoot over, laying down next to him. “I wasn’t mad at you… I was … I just woke up and had to pee, and I forgot where the bathroom was, and … God, you looked so sweet and peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you up… Sorry, Cas, I’m so sorry, I keep …”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Baby, it’s always okay to wake me. If you need me for anything, you can wake me or come get me, call, scream… I don’t care how, but I’m here for you. Do you understand?” Dean nods. Cas raises one eyebrow. “Tell me what you’re agreeing to, Dean.”

Taking a breath, Dean looks Cas in the eyes. “If I need you… for anything… It’s okay to wake you up, or get you, or call you. And… And you won’t get mad at me,” he adds.

“... And I won’t get mad at you. Exactly right.” Cas agrees, and adds, “But, I will get stiff if we stay on this cold floor any longer.”

Cas rolls over and gets up, reaching down to help Dean up off the floor.

“You okay to lay back down for a while? It’s … almost five am, but the sun won't be up for a while, yet.” Cas really wants to curl up in bed and get warm again. Besides, he could use some more sleep; mornings suck usually, but this 3 am panic has left him exhausted.

Dean nods. “Yeah, sounds good. But, … will you, first, show me which door is the bathroom?”

Cas snorts out a laugh and kisses Dean on the cheek. “Sure…” He opens the bathroom door. “How about we just leave it open?”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean smiles shyly, still embarrassed about peeing on the plant.

Tugging Dean by the hand, Cas climbs back on the bed. He pulls Dean close and covers them both with the sheet, a handmade quilt, and a crocheted afghan that his mother made. They shift and settle for a few minutes, whispering and giggling as elbows and knees collide until Dean ends up the little spoon to Cas’s big spoon.

Kissing the back of Dean’s neck, Cas nuzzles against him, taking in his scent. Cas loves how Dean no longer has that antiseptic overtone from the hospital issued soap. Now when he breathes in against Dean's skin, he can smell his real scent, a warm, earthy, woody smell with just a hint of Cas' own body wash from his shower earlier. Cas captures that scent, committing it to memory as he pets Dean’s forearm. It doesn’t take long for them both to drift back to sleep.

* * *

 “Cassie? I had a call from the gallery. It seems that Cro… SHIT! Sorry! Didn’t know you had company!”

“Tha-fuck, Gabe?” Cas growls sleepily, sitting up to see the doorway. Dean senses the movement, rolls over, and smacks Cas in the balls. “Fuck... ow,” Cas grumbles, tossing Dean’s arm off him. ‘ _Mornings suck so hard_.’

Standing in the door, Gabe busts out laughing at Cas’s predicament.

“Why are you here, Gabe?” Cas whines, rubbing his eyes, just wanting to be still asleep.

“Um, Oh! Crowley called again. He’s still pushing for that…”

“NO! I said no, and I meant no. Dammit!” Cas cuts Gabriel off.

Both Cas and Gabe turn and stare in shock as Dean startles and falls off the bed.

“Ooof, shit,” Dean moans.

“Dean?” Cas leans over the edge of the bed looking down at Dean. Bright green eyes wide with fear and confusion blink up at Cas.

“HH- Who?” Dean’s voice cracks.

“It’s just Gabe pestering me about the dick who directs the gallery. Why are you on the floor, Babe?” Cas smiles, reaching down and petting Dean on the chest.

“I didn’t mean to…” Dean apologizes, looking around his unexpected position on the floor.

Grasping Dean’s hand, Cas urges him up. “Come back to bed.” Cas offers, winking at Dean. “I haven’t even had the chance to give you a proper ‘good morning’ yet.”

Cas looks over his shoulder at Gabe. “You probably want to leave now. We’ll talk later.”

Gabe straightens and abruptly turns to leave. “Got it! Later boys!”

Dean clambers back up onto the bed.

“You okay?” Cas frets over Dean, hands caressing Dean’s chest and side, making sure he’s okay after his tumble from the bed.

“Mhmm.” Dean nods. “Mostly landed on my ass and barely hit my head on the wall.”

Cas runs his hand down Dean’s side to his butt, rubbing and gently squeezing his cheek. “Need me to make it feel better?” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at Dean.

Dean closes his eyes and relaxes under Cas’s touch. “Cas…” He manages, breath hitching, as he gives a full body shudder.

Leaning in, Cas captures Dean’s mouth, stealing any other words Dean might have tried to say. Nibbling his way to Dean’s earlobe, “Good morning, Dean.”

“Nngh, mornin’, Cas…” Dean pushes Cas against the pillows and kisses the corded muscles on Cas’s neck. Licking a trail down to his collarbone, Dean moans against Cas’s skin, his hand under Cas’s t-shirt, rubbing along the smooth skin on his side and up his rib cage. He pushes Cas’s shirt up to his underarms. “Fuck... “ Dean groans out as he latches onto Cas’s nipple, tonguing and nipping as he grinds against Cas’s thigh.

“Dean... “ Cas breaths out a sigh.

“Mmff, Cas… I want...”

Cas grinds up against Dean. “Wha- Baby, what do you want?”

“Not sure…” Dean pants, pulling up so he can look at Cas. Confusion and arousal distort his features, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You… but…”

Cas places his hands on Dean’s flushed face, tenderly holding his gaze. “In your time, Dean. You have control, and I won't make you do anything if you're not ready. We can stop right now, or maybe kiss for a while.”

Dean nods, fighting back his tears, refusing to let the monsters win. “‘m sorry.” He closes his eyes. ‘ _Stupid. Stupid. Fuckn child! Get a fuckn’ grip - idiot! Cas is right here_.’ Gritting his teeth, he shoves down his nerves and lunges forward capturing Cas’s mouth, licking, begging for entry. Grinding his now softened dick against Cas, attempting to force himself to get hard again. He snakes his hand between their hips, rubbing Cas’s semi-hard cock through his shorts. He grunts as he pushes himself to make this pleasant for Cas.

“Mmnh, Baby, I can make you feel so good,” Dean purrs. Slipping his hand passed the waistband of Cas’s shorts, he wraps his fingers around Cas’s cock. “Oh, yeah… You like that, Baby?” Dean’s licks and trails open-mouthed kisses along Cas’s neck and chest, teething at Cas’s nipples.

“Oh, shit… Dean…” Cas moans, thrusting into Dean’s hand.

“See, Baby… I can be real good for you. I can be what you need.” Dean sucks on Cas’s hipbone, teething at the tender skin.  “You’re so gorgeous,” Dean growls as he mouths his way across Cas’s abs to bite and suck a hickey on his other hipbone.

“Fuck… Dean…” Cas’s voice shakes, Dean has him so worked up. He clenches the sheets in his fists, throwing his head back. “Nngh-God...”

“You wanna cum, Baby? You want my hot mouth? I bet you wanna mark me real good.” Dean suggests, moaning and pleading.  He pulls down Cas’s boxer briefs, licking Cas’s cock base to tip, leaving a ghost of his hot breath on the tip. He lets his spit drool off the tip of his tongue, his saliva mixing with the precum glistening on Cas’s slit.

“D- D- D… fuuuuckkk” Cas shudders.

“Oh yeah, Baby. You gonna fuck my mouth?” Dean wraps his lips around Cas and sinks as far as he can without gagging, drooling all over Cas’s cock, getting him wet. He pulls up and tongues Cas’s slit. Tears drip off his eyelashes as he goes back down, deepthroating Cas, his throat tightening around Cas as he fights back his sobs.  His tears are mixing with his saliva. ‘ _You’re a fuckn pro dammit - you have to do this - stop bein’ a pussy - this is all you’re good for - fuckn hole - suck your goddamn boyfriend, you idiot._ ’ Dean berates himself, forcing himself to swallow around Cas’s cock.

Cas fights to keep his hips still. He doesn’t want to choke or hurt Dean. He’s having a difficult time staying focused on anything, but Dean’s hot mouth wrapped around his cock. ' _So wet, so hot…. shit, so close_ …'

“De-  I’m... cloo-sse…”

Dean swallows and sucks as he works the tip of his tongue on the sensitive spot just under the head of Cas’s cock, licking the precum and going back down until his nose meets the coarse hair at the base. ‘ _This is all you’re good for_ …’ Images of sweaty men in back allies, foster parents, caseworkers, truckers… all flash through Dean’s mind as he sucks Cas off. As he feels Cas’s balls tighten, Cas’s hand on Dean’s head pulls his hair while his fist tightens; the image of Alistair’s cold hard stare blinds Dean to the reality happening around him. Instead of hearing Cas call out as he comes, Dean hears Alistair calling him the “best fucktoy he’d ever trained.” Dean swallows, well-practiced at ignoring his body’s instinct to puke when he has a dick past his tonsils.

“Oh! God! Dean!” Cas arches his back, unintentionally pulling Dean’s hair as he comes, Dean’s throat muscles milking his cockhead. He gasps as he flops his arms down on the bed. “Dear God, you’re fucking beautiful!” Reaching up Cas grabs ahold his own head. “Shit... Babe, my head's spinning… I think you sucked my brain right out my damn dick!” He laughs. Leaning up on his elbows, Cas smiles down at Dean.

Dean is laying with his cheek on Cas’s thigh, his face hidden by his hand. Dean’s shoulders shudder, and he chokes while gasping for air.

Cas grins, chuckling. “Come here… Let me take care of you…”

Dean shakes his head and hiccups, trying to hide his tears from Cas. “Nuh-uh… ‘M… K...” He barely manages to choke out, crying and fighting to keep his stomach contents in place. (He never did get hard again, the monsters stole that from him.)

Sitting up, Cas reaches out and brushes Dean’s hair back from his face. “You’re so sweaty.” He teases. “... and hot… like overheated hot, Babe?” Cas’s smile falls. “Dean, please look at me?” Dean shakes his head, still hiding his face. “Baby, are you crying? ...shit, Dean?” Cas pulls up his shorts and scoots down close to Dean. “Shit, Dean, you _are_ crying! Fuck… Did I hurt you?” Cas panics.

Dean shakes his head more vigorously. “No… Jus’ forget it... ‘m jus’ stupid.” Dean twists away from Cas’s touch, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Jesus… Dean, please… Tell me what I did wrong.” Cas pleads, “I’m so sorry Dean, please...”

“Dammit, Cas! Stop! Stop sayin’ sorry!” Dean pushes away. “I’m so fucked up! God!!” Dean screams and slams his fists against his temples. “Goddammit! SO! FUCKED! UP!”

Cas blocks Dean’s fists with his own hands, holding Dean’s head. “STOP! Dean! PLEASE Stop!”

Cas pulls Dean’s arms down to his sides. Dean’s fists are so tight that his hands are red and his arms are shaking. Dean’s making a low rumbling sound, somewhere between a whimper and a growl.

“Dean… listen to me, just relax and listen, okay?” Cas attempts to gain eye contact but fails as Dean isn’t wholly present and unable to focus.

“Dean. You were triggered, by… shit… by blowing me.” It hurts Cas to say this, “Sweetheart, you weren't ready for that. I should have recognized the signs.” Cas replays the whole, _fucking amazing_ , thing, trying to recall Dean’s words and actions, his tone, and mannerisms. _‘I’m such a selfish bastard! I did this to him_.’

“Shit.” Cas lets go of Dean’s arms. Dean sits perfectly still, eyes cast down. “I’m such an idiot, Dean. I’m so sorry,” Cas scoots up on the bed and leans against the headboard, “You were… are.. in sub-headspace, and I used you like the fucking selfish dick that I am.” Cas rubs his temples, trying to remember how to handle aftercare properly. God, it’s been years since he was in that culture.  He gets up and grabs a couple of orange juice bottles from the mini-fridge in the studio and digs around in his bag until he finds a protein bar. ‘ _That’s a start at least_.’

He gently touches Dean on the shoulder and slides his hand down to Dean’s. He encourages Dean to relax then sits against the headboard, taking Dean’s upper body onto his lap.

“Dean, you need to drink some juice.”

Dean doesn’t move at first, so Cas nudges him and puts the juice in Dean’s hand. ‘ _He’ll either drink or spill it on himself_.’

Dean chugs the whole bottle.

“Thank you, Dean. I have a protein bar here for you, too” He hands Dean the open, crumbly, nutrition bar. Dean accepts it.

“There you go.”

Cas hears the muffled vibrations of his phone. He scrambles out of bed to locate it.

“Hang on, Babe.” He says to Dean who is eating his nutrition bar and drinking the second bottle of juice. A quick search finds his jeans. He digs out his phone. Two missed reminders, the most current just a minute ago.

“Fuck! Dean, your meds. I forgot your meds this morning. We slept through the first alarm.” He roots around in his bag until he gathers all three bottles.  The sleep aid is only for the evenings, but the other two have to be taken throughout the day. He checks his phone for medical information. “Okay, this says that if you miss one, to take the next dose at the usual time… don’t double up. You still got juice?” He eyes the empty orange juice bottle in Dean’s hand. “No, okay…” Cas brings Dean another bottle of juice, this one apple. “Here, Babe, take these. We can get some clothes on and go find some real food, sound good?” Cas is trying to stay calm as he continues talking to Dean, hoping to initiate him in conversation.

Dean shrugs, not looking at Cas. “Yeah, well, you're gonna love my cooking…. or not…” Plopping down next to Dean, Cas grimaces and shakes his head.

* * *

 Sitting at the breakfast nook, Cas and Dean silently eat their not-quite-burned scrambled eggs, almost-crispy bacon, half-burned toast, and orange slices. ‘ _Damn toaster hates me, Gabe’s toast is never burned._ ’

Cas steals glances at Dean every few bites.

Dean focuses on his fork between bites. His metal fork. His breakfast on a crockery plate, sitting in a fancy kitchen. How can this be real? It can’t.

Clearing his throat, Dean glimpses up at Cas through his lashes. “Um… guess...” _cough_ , “Guess you gonna take me back today, huh?” Dean mumbles quietly.

“What? No. Dean, why… I don’t want to take you back. I want you here, with me.” Cas takes Dean’s hand in his own. “Dean, I told you the truth when I said I love you, and how much I want us to be together. This morning was... “

“A mistake,” Dean interjects.

“God, no. Well, maybe the timing was rushed, but Dean… You, you just fucking ruined me for anyone else - ever - when it comes to fellatio.” Cas moves to sit next to Dean. “That was, honest to god, the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

Dean wipes his hand down his face. “Wish I enjoyed it half as much as you did.” He admits sadly. “I wanted to… but it hurt so much, in here.” He points at his head.

“Awe, shit, Dean. As much as I hate to say this - I’d give that up for life if it hurts you. If you have to force yourself, just stop. Let me know what’s going on up here.” Cas cradles Dean’s head in his hand, combing his fingers through Dean’s soft hair. “I told you that I don’t want to push you to do anything you're not ready for, and from your reaction, you weren’t ready for sex this morning, not emotionally.”

“‘m sorry, Cas. I keep fuckn’ up.”

“No, I wouldn’t call it fucking up, more… Stumbling while learning how to climb the mountain that you’ve been trying to carry around all your life.” Cas kisses Dean on the forehead. “You want more food?”

Dean shakes his head. “Can…”

Cas waits, but Dean isn’t offering to say more. “Can, what, Dean?”

“Nothin’, it's stupid.”

“Ask anyway. It may not be as stupid as you think.”

“Nah, it prolly is.”

“ugh… Spit it out. Now I have to know!” Cas grins.

“I haven’t... well, legally, with permission. I never got to… Never one so nice and all…” Dean stammers and circles around his question.

“Dean! What? What are you trying to ask?”

Dean stares, shocked out of his thoughts, silent for a few seconds.

“Can we swim?” He blurts out, too loud.

“Yes! Of course! Jesus, I thought you wanted something unattainable or “stupid.” My pool is heated, and I use it nearly year-round. Plus, there’s the hot tub. Maybe it’s a little cool out, but we can make a fire in the old stove on the patio.” Cas pulls Dean into a hug, chuckling in relief. “I love you so fucking much, Princess!”

* * *

 “No shit? You can order from anywhere? Just like that?” Dean watches Cas order burgers from Harvelle’s via an app on his phone.

“No shit. We can order online, and there’s a fleet of drivers who deliver all over town. Cool, huh?” Cas grins at Dean’s childlike wonder, he’s never owned a smartphone or had the funds or reason to order food online.

“Damn, you never have to cook again!” Dean taunts Cas.

“Fuck you!” Cas laughs. “You didn’t die after breakfast or lunch!”

“No, but I been eatn’ hospital food for a looong time…”

“Well aren’t you a lucky little shit, because I’m not making you dinner after swimming all afternoon.” Cas sticks out his tongue at Dean.

Dean leans back in his chair, arms behind his head and legs stretched out close to the old wood-burning stove. “Yep. Lucky me!”

Cas pokes him in the underarm, causing Dean to (not) squeal (of course not) and jerk away, curling in on himself.

“Cas…. No…. Don’t look at me like that!”

Cas smirks, eyes full of mischief. “You’re ticklish.”

“No, no… you… you just surprised me.”

“Wanna test that theory?”

“No, Cas, I’m a grown-ass-man…. I ain’t tick…. fuuuuuuckk!” Dean bolts from his seat, around the pool toward the garage, Cas hot on his heels. Landing in the soft grass near the back of the house, Cas tackles Dean. Wrestling and rolling over each other until Dean sits on top of Cas. Breathless, both laughing so hard they ache.

“HA! I won!” Dean raises his arms in victory.

“You think?” Cas reaches up and gooses Dean on both sides. Dean falls off Cas while Cas continues his tickle attack.

“Okay! Uncle! Uncle! You win!” Dean yells between gasps of laughter and squeals. Cas relents, and they lay side by side, catching their breath.

“Hey, dude.”

Shocked, Cas tilts his head back and stares at an upside-down delivery man, holding a large insulated bag.

“Jay?” Cas rolls over to his front. “I thought you only delivered pizza.”

Dean rolls over and scoots close to Cas, throwing his arm across Cas’s back, his hand slapping Cas on the ass. Cas gasps and turns to look at him. Dean quickly leans in and captures Cas’s mouth, pushing his tongue past Cas’s surprised lips.

“Dean, dude, I’m just delivering your food, I swear.” Jay grins at Dean’s reaction.

Cas finally manages to break Dean’s spell and pulls away, panting, still unable to take his eyes off Dean’s.

“Daaammn, Castiel.” Jay swoons, sitting down on the grass in front of them, uninvited but not unwelcome. “I think I may be a little jealous of _you_ now… He really knows how to kiss…”

“Stop drooling all over my food and quit staring at my boyfriend.” Cas sits up, nudging Dean to sit up as well. He grabs the food from Jay. “Besides, I thought you were going back to hitting on desperate housewives.” Cas digs into the bag and pulls out their food.

Jay shrugs, “Meh, that’s more fun in the summer. So, I got some more hours doin’ the delivery driver gig for one of the online apps.”

“You just drive food around all day?” Dean asks as he unwraps his burger.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“And you like doin’ that?” Dean questions with a mouth full of food.

Cas is proud of Dean initiating conversation with Jay. It’s a bit awkward sitting here with them both after his … evening with Jay, but Dean seems to be getting along with him just fine. Well, after that show of possessiveness, which makes Cas all warm and tingly inside.

“Sure, beats bein’ stuck in some stuffy mailroom or some other shit job. What kinda work do you do, Dean?”

“Nothin’, I’m Cas’s boy-toy.” He bites his lower lip, fighting back his laughter. The look on Cas’s face is exactly what he was hoping to see. Eyes huge, mouth dropped wide open, gasping for words.

“I - I - I … You…. No… Wha?...” Cas stumbles and stutters.

Dean and Jay share a grin before both burst out laughing at Cas’s expense.

“Damn, I like you, Dean!” Jay slaps Dean on the shoulder. “Well, boys, I hate to break up this little party, but I gotta get back to work. Catch ya later!” Jay hops up and waves as he turns at the corner of the house.

Cas stares daggers at Dean.

“What?” Dean declares, dramatically innocent.

“You are not my boy-toy!” Cas sounds hurt and disappointed.

“It was a joke… I was just teasin’, Cas. Really.”

“You sure? I don’t want you to think of us that way. I’m not some heartless rich dick… I’d never … shit, Dean.” Cas looks down at his food.

“Cas, I don’t think you are, you’re the best …You’d never... I trust you. I love you, Cas. I just got a fuck-ton of crazy up here that likes to pop out at the worst times.” He expounds while pointing to his head.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Dean. What I see is a man haunted by the evil of others.” Cas cups Dean’s face with his hand, holding his gaze as he speaks. “I love every part of you, even the obnoxious, bratty bits.”

Dean cracks a smile. “Thank you for loving me. I’m sorry I make it so hard.”

“Grab your food, “boy-toy,” it’s getting cold sitting on the ground now that the sun’s gone down. Let’s go back to the patio.”

* * *

 Cas stokes the fire and pours them each a mug of hot apple cider (one of the conveniences of using an old wood cook stove as a fire pit). Dean wraps the quilt around them both when Cas sits back down on the lounge.

Sipping their cider, they relax under the stars, listening to the night sounds and the crackle of the fire in the old stove.

Cas catches Dean staring blankly at the stove.

“You okay?”

“You were right. I wasn’t ready.” Cas squeezes Dean closer, offering him security. “I wanted to be ready, to be good for you. But, I wasn’t… ya know, ‘present in the moment.’ My fucked-up brain was off in some nasty ally or the back of some trucker’s cab. Then next thing, I was in the grip of…” Dean wipes his eyes but continues, boldly. “... of some so-called foster parents… Jesus, Cas! I was only six… Six-year-olds are damn babies, Cas!”

All Cas can do is hold Dean as he cries it out. Cas has no words for this.

“It… never… stopped… Cas!” Dean chokes out.

Cas peels off the quilt when Dean gets overheated and starts coughing.

“Shhh, Dean, I’m here now, you’re safe. No one is ever going to hurt you like that again. Including me. ‘No’ means ‘No,’ you’re in control, Sweetheart.”

“No… I mean, not “NO,” “Red” means full stop. Yellow means…”

“Dean, I’m not your Dom, I don't want to...” Cas breaks in, not sure he likes where Dean is going with this train of thought.

“Not like that, Cas. Look, when you were gonna tickle me, I said ‘No’...”

“Shit and I did it anyway… I’m sorry…”

“Cas, shut up!” That startles Cas into silence; he stares at Dean with eyes wide and mouth shut. “NO doesn’t always mean a ‘Hard No,’ Cas. If you don’t like the traffic light, then pick something else, but I think it’s a good system, as long as both people agree on the terms.” He stares at Cas, waiting on a response.

“Oh - my turn… Right, I agree. I mean, I agree with your logic. And if you prefer to use the traffic light system, we will. But that means you have to talk to me. Yellow or Red - and you let me know what’s spooking that big ole brain of yours. And I think that for now, Yellow means a soft stop, long enough to figure out what’s bothering you.” Cas rubs his hand through Dean’s hair, making it stick up in all directions.

“Okay, Cas.” Dean gives Cas a chaste kiss. “I’ll do my best to explain this mess.” He pokes himself in the forehead.

“Let’s go in; we can be a lot more comfortable in bed…” Cas fights a yawn.

“You sleepy, old man?”

“Shut up and go brush your teeth. Take your meds - properly! I’ve counted. I’ll clear this up and put the cider away.”

Dean heads inside as Cas takes care of the fire and the cider.

Cas has been Johnny-on-the-spot with Dean’s meds throughout the day, not wanting to miss any more doses. Today was their first full day of Dean’s visit, and Cas wants the rest of the week to be less frightening, for both of them. 

* * *

 Cas lays on his back, Dean wrapped around him like a giant octopus, softly snoring, right in Cas’s ear.  Cas smirks. ‘ _Annoying little shit, even in his sleep_.’

There may have been a few minor, and maybe not-so-trivial, melt-downs but the day had honestly been good overall.  Dean was able to explain his triggered reactions, albeit through a lot of tears, spilled cider and nearly puking in Cas’s lap. Cas still calls it a win. Dean did voice his fears, and now they can face those fears, together. Cas will be right there next to Dean as he defeats his demons, one monster at a time.

Cas snuggles into Dean’s touch, drifting toward sleep.

His eyes suddenly pop wide open. ‘ _He didn’t use my name. When he was in that headspace, he never used my name. Fuck… I’m an idiot. He doesn’t use a pet name for me, never calls me Babe or Baby like that… Holy shit, he did that before, the last time he had a bad episode_.’ Cas makes a mental note to write that down, to keep better track of Dean’s mannerisms and triggers, and to discuss what happened with Eleanor.

Dean smacks his lips, hums a very satisfied sound, and snuggles closer to Cas. That’s enough to ease Cas’s mind and allow for him to finally turn off his thoughts so he can get some much-needed rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: The Plant. This comes from a real-life experience. I have a friend who owns an indestructible It's actually some kind of split leaf philodendron or something but it's huge now. That plant lived in a big fancy pot in his bedroom for years. It seemed that every man who got mad at him would pee in his planter. It happened three different times. One summer we were all sitting around his pool and someone noticed that the plant now lived on the patio in an even bigger fancy pot. The stories of the ex-lovers who peed in his plant went around the table, all of us knew those stories, except his current partner. The best part of the evening was when his partner stood up and peed in the planter. My friend was aghast! "Why did you do that?" - "I'm just marking my territory, Sweetheart." Everyone at the table laughed hysterically! - Yes the plant is still alive.


	26. Austin Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even before Cas knew what was on Dean's bucket list, he knew he was going to take him to the Austin Zoo. Cas loves visiting the zoo, seeing all the interesting exhibits, he know's that Dean will love it, too.

“Dean, it’s alright.” Dean tries to catch his breath as Cas rubs his back.

“Sorry… It… I just…” Dean pants, leaning over with his hands on his knees.

“Just breathe, Babe. I think you just got overheated and overwhelmed.

Dean has never actually visited a zoo before, but Cas loves the Austin Zoo and has been excited about taking Dean to see the bird exhibit. Dean enjoys watching birds so much that Cas knew he’d like seeing all the exotic birds. The fact that Dean spent a couple of years at The Ranch, Cas also knew that he wasn’t afraid of animals in general, bugs… now that’s a whole ‘nother story; Dean absolutely hates bugs.

“Here, Dean, drink some water.” Cas fans Dean with his zoo map.

Sitting on a boulder a few meters from the Bird Sanctuary, Dean gulps down half the bottle in one go. Taking a deep breath, he leans his head against Cas’s belly.

“I’m sorry, Cas. You did all this for me, and I keep fucking everything up.”

“Dean, you haven’t fucked-up anything. You just needed a break. Me too, actually. It’s been a long morning.” Cas strokes his fingers through Dean’s now cool, sweaty hair. “Hey, you’ve done a lot this morning. Think about all the cool shit, Dean.” Dean shrugs.  “Remember Daisy?” Dean gives a small nod.

Dean tilts his head into Cas’s touch, “Yeah, Daisy’s cool.”

“What’s so cool about Daisy, Babe?”

“Ya know, just ... she’s a giraffe, a really cool giraffe that did **not** want to eat me.” Dean glances up at Cas, “You totally freaked when Daisy wrapped her tongue around my arm.”

“Babe, that thing’s tongue was as long as your arm.” Cas chuckles.

“It _was_ kinda gross gettin’ giraffe drool all over me, but, man, she’s a gentle giant, so sweet with those big cow eyes. I think I‘m in love with a tall, brown-eyed beauty.” He teases and bumps his forehead against Cas’s hip.

“Yeah, whatever. What else? What did you do by the entrance?”

Dean squints up at Cas, thinking back to right after they entered the zoo and he spotted the popcorn stand and the huge carousel, “Oh! yeah, the monkey!” Dean smiles, “I got to hold a monkey, why didn’t you want to hold the monkey? He was funny.”

“I was taking pictures, so I couldn’t hold the little guy. I told you you’d like the zoo.” Cas caresses Dean’s cheek. “You cooled off now?” Dean nods. “Do you want to try the birds again or do you think we should take a break for a snack?” Cas spots some tables nearby under a shade tree.

“Let’s have a snack, then see the birds.” Dean reaches up and takes Cas’s hand.

They walk hand-in-hand to an empty picnic table. Cas pulls out some protein bars and another water bottle from his messenger bag.

“Did you get that bag from Mary Poppins or somethin’?” Dean teases while he opens his oatmeal-raisin bar.

“Shut up. At least we aren’t paying three dollars for a bottle of water.”

“Dude, you’re the cheapest rich dude I’ve ever met. I mean, hell, you freaked that poor kid out when you started arguing about your damn coupon expiration date.” Dean nudges Cas’s with his elbow, giving him a little wink and a grin.

“Well, it was obviously still within the acceptable time limit and…”

Dean leans down and bites Cas on the forearm.

“Ow! What the hell?”

Dean giggles. “I wanted to shut you up with a kiss but figured they might kick us out or something… You were heading down an ugly path of coupon anger.”

“So you bit me.” Cas looks at the pink mark on his arm and back to Dean. “Next time you bite me… I’m biting you back.” He takes Dean by the back of the neck and pulls him close, staring intently into his eyes. Bringing their lips together, he gives Dean a firm kiss, closed mouth but full of emotion. “And next time you want to kiss me… fucking kiss me. I don’t give a shit what people think.”

Dean stares back at Cas, mouth agape and eyes wide. He nods in agreement. “Okay, Cas.”

Cas finishes his protein bar and water, ignoring how Dean is still staring at him.

“... so… you wanna bite me back?” Dean leans in and slowly draws out his words.

Cas laughs and pushes Dean away. “Shut up, or I won't bring you to the zoo again.”

Sitting under the shade tree, they chatter and laugh over the morning’s events, revisiting the exciting moments of seeing the loins, elephants, monkeys and other animals.

Cas points out the recycle bins, and Dean hops up to toss their wrappers, keeping the bottles to refill with water from a tap or water fountain.

“How are you feeling now, Dean?” Cas inquires as he drapes his messenger bag across his shoulders.

“Better, I think I you were right, I did get overheated and when you opened the doors to the aviary… it was like stepping into an oven, like there was no air, I just kinda panicked. I’m sorry.” Dean looks down at his shoes, new sneakers with white laces and no holes.

“Stop apologizing, Dean. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Cas crooks his index finger under Dean’s chin and guides Dean to look up at him. “You have done nothing wrong,” he repeats. leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Dean’s pink lips.

Dean stumbles forward toward Cas when he is bumped from behind at the knees. A small boy had run into Dean and then toppled over, sitting on the ground he looks up at Dean and Cas, bright blue eyes wide.

“Sowwy!” The boy calls out.

“Zep, I say’d ‘wasshout’ and that mean’did you was donna crash!” A little girl the same size reprimands.

“Sowwy, Awwow. I twied to stop.” the boy, apparently called Zep, begins to cry.

Dean kneels down to help the boy to his feet.

“You okay, little guy?” Dean asks the child.

The girl is now standing next to the boy, staring wide-eyed at Dean with the same bright eyes as the boy.

“He likes to run and fergots to wasshout.” She announces, proud to tattle on her brother.

Holding up his dirty hand, he checks his fingers then presents them to the group. “I’n four, and so’s Awwow. But I’n’s tha od-est.” He sticks out his tongue at his sister.

“I’m taller!” she brags.

Dean looks at the boy and girl, point to them in turn, “Zep and Arrow? You guys have cool names. My name is Dean.”

“Deeen!” Shouts Zep and wraps his sweaty little arms around Dean’s neck. Dean plops to the ground from his squatted position and is attacked by another big hug from Arrow.

“Hey, little dudes, you’re gonna choke me!” Dean laughs.

The kids giggle, and after a last big squeeze they bounce off Dean and jump around him in a circle, laughing and jabbering about all the things they had seen in the zoo.

“We see’d monkeys and lelepants!” calls Arrow.

“I lik’ded tha ‘nakes ‘n birds!” Zep sing songs as he continues to hop on both feet, flapping his arms.

“We saw monkeys and elephants and snakes too, and we’re heading to see the birds next. Hey, Zep? Zep.” Dean waits for the boy to pause in front of him. “Did you like the birds?”

Zep nods and runs around Dean again, chirping and squawking. “Bunches of colors and fedders.”

“Zep cried!” Arrow informs Dean.

“Why?” Dean asks worriedly.

“He was hot, and the birds was loud and he hadta pee.” she elaborates while she plays with Dean’s hair.

Dean glances up at Cas who is standing back watching the scene play out. (And definitely _not_ snapping dozens of pictures.) “Ya know what, little dude, it’s okay that you cried. The bird's exhibit kinda freaked me out, too. But I really like birds, and so, me and Cas are gonna go back in there.” Saying it out loud gives Dean a rush of confidence, he can do this, with Cas he can do anything.

“Zep! Arrow! Leave that man alone.” Calls a tall, handsome man who must be their father, because they look just like him.

“Deeen’s nice, Daddy!” Calls Zep.

The man joins them. “But I’m sure Dean came to see the monkeys that live in the zoo, not two wild Texas monkeys.” He scoops the boy, tickling his belly.

Dean Jumps up, wiping the dirt off his pants. “I - I didn’t touch ‘em or nothin’, just wanted to make sure the little guy wasn’t hurt…”

The man reaches his right hand out to Dean. “It’s cool man; I’m sorry if they were bothering you. These two never meet a stranger.” Dean shakes his hand. “I’m Ross, Nice to meet you - Dean, right?”

“Um, yea, Dean. You have great kids.”

“Thanks, we’re giving Mommy a break today. Right twerp?” He blows raspberries on Zep’s belly before letting him loose to chase his sister.

“Oh,” Dean grabs Cas’s hand and pulls him closer. “This is Cas.”

Cas greets Ross, and they exchange pleasantries.

“Today is my first time to the zoo, Cas has been loads of times.” Dean offers, nerves starting to take over and he squeezes Cas’s hand, gulps and makes himself stop talking.

“That’s great, Dean, I hope you’re able to visit again. We love coming here.” He notices the kids getting fussy. “I think we need to settle down for our lunch, now. It was nice meeting you both.”

“You too, Ross.” Cass bids farewell.

“Bye Zep! Bye Arrow!” Dean calls as he and Cas walk back toward the bird sanctuary.

Cas pulls Dean behind a statue of a lion. He grabs Dean by the nape of his neck and launches an attack on Dean’s mouth. Dean surrenders willingly, moaning as he returns the kiss, wrapping his arms around Cas, slipping his hands in Cas’s back pockets. Cas pulls back, and Dean chases his lips, opening his eyes slowly to see Cas smiling as he caresses the hair that is just long enough to be on Dean’s collar.

“What was that for?”

“Can’t I kiss my boyfriend without a reason?”

“Sure… but that wasn’t just an innocent kiss, that had meaning behind it.”

“Dean, I love you. You amaze me every day.” Cas gives Dean a kiss on his cheek. “Let’s go inside and see the birds.”

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Okay…” He follows, still holding Cas’s hand.

They pause just inside the building, giving Dean a chance to acclimate to the barrage of noise, smells and temperature. Dean closes his eyes, and takes deep slow breaths, counting to ten, he squeezes Cas’s hand to help ground himself as he fights to control his nerves.

“Baby, you don’t have…”

“No. I want to do this, Cas.”

The various calls of the birds fill his ears, he tilts his head and listens. His lips curl up into a small smile. Opening his eyes, he sees the interior of the atrium. Tropical plants, trees, and the domed glass ceiling. Sunlight streams into the room, giving everything a unique glow. He takes several steps into the room, pulling Cas with him.

“Cas…” His eyes dart from limb to limb as he spots exotic birds all around them. “... they… they’re beautiful…” he whispers.

Cas is doing his best to video Dean’s expressions and this whole experience; it’s a little awkward with Dean flitting his gaze each time he hears a new bird call or sees a branch move.

“Glad you came inside?” Cas asks, still videoing.

Dean turns to face him, eyes glistening, and cheeks stained with tear tracks. He drops Cas’s hand and grabs Cas’s face with both hands, lunging forward capturing Cas’s mouth with all the emotion he is unable to communicate through words. (Cas videos the whole thing, wobbly, tilted, and probably blurry but perfect.) 

“Thank you. I love you so much.” Dean pants when he releases Cas.

There are a few _awes_ and _oohs_ from some of the other visitors, reminding the two men that they are still in public. Dean blushes bright red and hides his face in Cas’s neck.

An ancient little couple smiles at them, both using canes they amble over to the boys. The old man pats Dean on the back. “Son, you’ve got yourself a keeper. And you, young fella, keep treating this sweet boy with love and kindness. I believe you two are off to a good start.”

“Oh, Jim, don’t fuss so.” The woman pats her husband on the arm. “My Jimmie can never leave love-birds alone. Such an old romantic.” She smiles and kisses Jim on the cheek.

“Marian, I’m not bothering these boys. Besides, they deserve all the encouragement they can get. You know how bitter people can be when they see true love. Don’t you young’uns let the haters bother you, back when I was court’n Marian, there were plenty of people who tried to keep us apart. We showed them, didn’t we sweetheart? This poor boy won the love of his princess - that’s what every fairy tale tells us. True love is what matters, boys, not what other people think.”

Jim gives Dean and Cas a handshake, squeezing and patting their hands in turn. Marian gives them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Take care of each other.” She says as she takes her husband’s hand. They exit the atrium and disappear out into the expanse of the Austin Zoo.

“Wow.” Dean looks at Cas, who is grinning like a fool.

They spent the next hour reading informational signs and trying to find every species housed in the atrium.

They wander outside to visit the other bird enclosures around the main building.

“Cas, look at the pretty Cockatoos!” Dean reads the sign in front of the large cage. “It says here that they form a close bond that lasts for a lifetime, and if they’re separated from their mate, they may slip into a deep depression. Oh, Man… poor birds. I hope these little guys are happy.” Dean ponders as he leans against the cage bars, watching the birds. “I think, next to Blue Jays, these are my favorite.”

Cas stands next to Dean, watching the white birds preen and chatter.  He snaps a few photos of Dean watching the birds, and a few of them together with the bright white birds behind them.

Once Dean has his fill of the colorful exotic birds, they follow the trail to the Emu and Ostrich enclosures.

“Dean! These Emus are so cute!” Cas laughs as the awkward birds chase each other and pester the cattle who are housed in their area. Dean gives Cas a wary look.

“I don’t like the way that one is looking at me…” Dean backs away while Cas makes kissy noises trying to call said emu closer.

“Dammit, Cas, you wanna lose a finger or somethin’?”

“They’re herbivores, Dean; they don’t eat fingers.” Just at that moment, the emu nips at Cas’s hand. He jumps back in shock, then laughs when he sees the look of horror and panic on Dean’s face.

“I TOLD YOU!” Dean yells. “They’re crazy-eyed dino-birds!”

“Baby, he just thought I had some feed or something, look it didn’t even leave a mark.”

Dean takes Cas’s hand and checks over each finger, palm and up to his wrist; bringing each finger to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“Don’t tempt the dino-birds, Cas. I’d really miss the fingers if some coo-coo bird bit them off.” Dean coos as he trails a few extra kisses up passed Cas’s wrist and forearm.

Cas smirks. “You would, huh?”

“Oh, you know I would…” Dean brings Cas’s hand up to his own cheek and draws him in for a kiss, keeping it very PG after getting busted in the Atrium.

“Mommy, those boys are kissing!” giggles a little girl, “Just like you and Daddy.”

“Honey, don’t stare, that’s rude!” Snips the mother, jerking the child away.

“Oh, Sweetheart, she’s not being rude - and neither are they. Don’t be so uptight.”

“But … in public, in front of children...” the woman stage whispers harshly.

“God, don’t start with that shit. You thought it was ‘so sweet’ when you watched those newlyweds kiss and cuddle over by the penguins. What’s different now? Obviously, they’re in love, just like that other young couple.”

“But… two grown men…” she bites back at her husband, just loud enough for Cas and Dean to hear.

“Really?! I thought you accepted my sister and her wife. Jesus!” The man grabs the little girl’s hand and kneels down to her level.

“Yes, baby girl. They are kissing like Mommy and Daddy, and like your favorite Aunties. They’re showing love just like Daddy and Mommy love you and give you kisses and cuddles.”

The girl smiles and hugs her father. “I love you, too Daddy. Can we get some cookies?”

Dean and Cas watch as the family pass them on their way to the concession stand. The little girl smiles and waves. The mother glares.

“Wow…” Blinks Cas.

“Smart kid, dumbass Mom.” Dean groans.

“I bet it’s going to be a fun evening at their house.” Cas jokes, taking Dean’s hand in his.

They stroll passed the other enclosures and exhibits toward the exit.

“Do you want to eat out or order in?” Cas asks as they buckle up in the truck.

“Can we order from Harville’s?”

“Sure, Babe, whatever you want.”

“I’m just… it’s been a long day, I think I'm ready to head home.”

“It has, and that’s no small zoo. We really walked a lot today. I’m pretty tired myself.”

Dean settles in the seat, resting his head against the back window, he closes his eyes and lets Cas’s choice in music flow over him. Just thinking over his day, all the animals and people they encountered, the colors, sounds, and smells. Jim and Marian stand out in his memory as he recalls Jim’s kind words and how happy and in love the old couple still seems to be.

Cas drives them home, stealing glances of Dean from time to time. Dean is quiet, resting but not asleep. Dean catches him staring a couple of times and grins.

Pulling into the garage, Cas watches Dean stretch and yawn as he reaches to unbuckle his seatbelt and open his door. “You are so fucking gorgeous.” Cas slides across the seat and places his hand softly against Dean’s cheek.

“Says the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I’m a toad compared to you.” Replies Dean as he leans in to capture Cas’s lips. Not giving him room to rebut. The kiss is soft and sweet but soon builds to hot and needy when Dean licks his way into Cas’s eager mouth. Dean sucks Cas’s tongue to the tip then opens and takes full control of the kiss. Dean pushes Cas down against the bench seat and continues his exploration, Cas gives in fully to Dean's momentum. Dean's hands are unable to settle, wanting to touch every part of Cas.  He slips one hand under his shirt and the other down past his belt buckle, cupping Cas’s soft cock through his jeans.

“Mmm want you, Cas.” He mumbles against Cas’s neck.

Cas grinds up against Dean’s hand, his dick filling and ready to join this party. “I’m all yours.”

Dean inches down, leaving a trail of wet kisses along Cas’s neck, pinching his nipple. Dean scoots down to attack the other nipple with his mouth. “I love this little freckle,” he sighs as he licks and nips at Cas’s nipple.

When Dean adjusts himself on the seat, so he can reach further down, past Cas’s belt, his ass hits the door, and he tumbles out the door which was still ajar, landing on the garage floor.

Cas sits up, startled out of his sex-haze, and leans over the edge of the seat, looking out the door and down at his dumbfounded boyfriend.

“Shit! You okay?!”

Dean lays on the floor, his feet up on the running board of the truck, tears rolling down into his ears… Laughing so hard he’s wheezing.

Cas Climbs out of the truck, kicking Deans’ feet out of the way. Dean just lets his feet flop onto the ground, still laughing.

“You ready to get up, yet, Goofy? I don’t see any blood, so you aren’t going to die.” Cas chuckles, trying to look serious, but losing the battle.

Dean grabs Cas’s outstretched hand and accepts the help to pull himself to his feet. He bends forward, hands on his knees as he catches his breath from laughing so hard.

“Whew - Cas, man, I haven’t laughed that hard in… years. Augh, my sides hurt.” He huffs out a few final chuckles as he stands upright, throwing his arm around Cas’s shoulders.

Cas wraps his arm around Dean’s back, sliding his hand into Dean’s back pocket. He gives Dean a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m glad you’re alright. You did look a bit like a flipped-turtle laying there with your arms and legs up in the air.” Cas teases. “One second you were driving me absolutely crazy and the next you just disappeared. I opened my eyes when your weight shifted and you… oh, man… you should have seen your face!” Cas laughs. “Then ‘boof!’... whew, now that I know you aren’t hurt… I …“ Cas doubles over, pressing the side of his face against Dean’s stomach, laughing so hard he can’t finish his sentence. Dean can’t help but laugh with him.

Soon, they steady themselves enough to walk to the pool house, finally calming to the random chuckle when one or the other makes a face or even thinks about the incident. They shed their jackets, and shoes and Dean flops down on the couch in the studio.

“Do you still want something from Harvill’s?” Cas asks from across the room.

“Sure, I love Ellen’s burgers.” Dean groans as he tries to get comfortable. Finally deciding that he’s wearing too many layers, he sheds his overshirt, socks, and belt. Sighing as he drops his belt and relaxes on the couch. He sprawls out, stretching like a cat.

“I love how soft this blanket is,” he mumbles into his own arm that is across his face.

Cas comes over to see what he’s talking about. It’s the quilted couch cover Cas had made.

“Quilt. It’s a quilted cover that I made several years ago.” Cas corrects, smiling at his lounging boyfriend. Recalling how Dean has had a good day today, with only a couple of minor meltdowns. Okay, so maybe his tearful fit this morning because a tiny spider crawled across his toothbrush was a bit over the top. But Cas was able to find him a new one, and once he ate breakfast, he was fine.

Dean rubs his hand over the fabric of the quilt and inspects the many colors and styles of the squares.

“You made this? Like cut out and sewed and everything?” Dean looks at Cas in amazement.

“Yes, I did,” Cas replies proudly. “The fabric is from clothes that belonged to my parents. I didn’t want to just throw them away, and I did donate some, but these were things I remembered them wearing.”

Dean abruptly sits up properly. “Shit, man. I’m sorry. I was just all...” Dean motions along the couch.

“No, Baby, It’s fine. Get comfortable. I made it to _be_ used.” He sits and pulls Dean’s feet into his lap. “It makes me so happy that you like it. Gabe teases me about how ugly it is.”

“Fuck him. I think it’s awesome. The fact that this is stuff your parents used to wear is the coolest fuckin’ thing in the whole damn world.” Dean caresses the fabric; his eyes moisten at the reminder that he has nothing of his parents.

Cas massages Dean’s feet and gives him a few moments of quiet. He knows exactly what must be going through Dean’s head right now. The way he is tenderly tracing his fingers over the flowers in one particular fabric square that was from on Cas’s mother’s dresses.

After dinner, they curl up together on the couch, listening to music. Dean has his head on Cas’s chest, reveling in the sound of his heartbeat and the calm rise and fall of his breathing. His free hand traces patterns on the quilt.

Cas is sitting reclined with his head leaned back on the couch and his feet on the coffee table, one hand playing with Dean’s hair while the other tracing patterns of his own along Dean’s back.

Both men are calm and content, bellies full and muscles relaxed.

“Cas?” Dean speaks just above a whisper.

“Hmm?” Cas replies without opening his eyes.

“Tell me a story.”

“A story? What kind of story?” Cas mumbles.

“Well, I’m just curious, ya know… I wanna hear about you.”

“Dean, I’ve told you about me.” Cas squirms as he adjusts because his butt was going numb. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, for one thing, how’d you get to be so fuckin’ rich? Not that that’s a bad thing… but you said your folks were poor and all, and that your uncle was a douche. I mean hell, you ain’t even thirty, and you’re fuckin’ loaded.”

Cas chuckles. “Yea, it pissed Uncle Michael off when my net worth outgrew his. My holdings are worth like twice what his ever were.”

“See, I don’t even know what that means.” Dean smiles up at Cas. “Sooo… How’d a kid whose Dad couldn’t even make rent on a one bedroom, garage apartment end up being a world famous, bagillionaire, artist?”

“It’s not as exciting as it seems. You really want to hear my lame story?”

“Cas, you could read the phonebook to me, and I’d want to listen all night. But, yeah, I really do wanna hear your story. You know a hell of a lot about me, all my shit - now that’s a horror story nobody would want to sit through.”

Cas pulls Dean’s hand to his lips and kisses each fingertip and the palm.

“Baby, even if it is a sad, scary story, I love it because it’s YOUR story. I also love that we get to write our own new chapters, together, intertwining our two stories into a complete novel.”

“Shit, that’s fuckin’ beautiful.”

Cas kisses the top of Dean’s head, then nudges him to scoot up so he can plant a solid kiss on his lips. Dean sits up and slides one leg over Cas’s lap so that he is now straddling him.

 Sucking Dean’s bottom lip and nibbling gently before he licks across Dean’s kiss-swollen lips, begging for entry. Dean moans as he returns the kiss, his hand trailing its way to Cas’s hair. Gripping the nape of his neck, Dean pulls back just enough to look Cas in the eyes. “This doesn’t get you out of telling me your story… Just, delays it a bit.”

Cas grins and squeezes Dean’s ass, pressing his hips to Dean’s. He can feel that he’s not the only one enjoying this little make-out session.

“I don’t … want... to ...mhfff… push you… but god…. I wanna…” Cas manages between kisses. He slides one hand between them and rubs Dean’s hardening cock. Retaking Dean’s mouth, his tongue thrusting and rubbing against Dean’s.  “Ahhh, fuck, Dean…” Cas thrusts his hips up and kisses as far down Dean’s neck as he can, trapped between his boyfriend and the back of the couch.

“Jesus, Cas…” Dean groans as Cas nips as his shoulder.

“Bed… these off...“ Cas tugs at Dean’s clothes. “Your dick, my mouth… hurry…” Cas growls between open mouth kisses along Dean’s neck and collarbone.

Dean snickers and rolls off the couch, barely missing the coffee table. Stripping off his t-shirt and undoing his jeans while he practically runs to the bedroom. “Storytime can wait!”

Cas is right on his heels; clothes tossed unceremoniously as they cross the room, they’re both laughing as they pounce on the bed.

Dean pulls Cas into a filthy-wet-messy kiss. Their cocks pressed between them. Dean gasps when Cas thrusts up against him, and their cocks rub together.

“Yes. Please. Yes. Cas.” He pants as Cas leaves a trail of not-quite-painful bites along his chest. Cas latches onto his right nipple and sucks until Dean hisses and grins up against him. Then he trails his tongue across to the left side, giving that one the same treatment. Dean fists the sheets, hissing, and moaning.

Cas takes his time giving open mouth kisses to the scars that pattern Dean’s torso with hash marks and sets of lines, three-by-three, Cas notices how it’s always three. Circling his tongue around Dean’s belly button, he tastes the precum that has dripped off Dean’s hard cock. Dean is breathing fast and shallow, his body is tense, and this worries Cas. He doesn’t want him going off into a headspace or horrible memory induced trance of some kind. Cas wants him here, in the now, enjoying this as much as Cas is.

“Dean. Baby, you with me?” Cas’s voice is low and rough with his arousal. Dean’s head jerks in a nod. “Talk to me, babe, I need to know your here with me.” Cas leans up to look face to face with Dean. “Open your eyes, Sweetheart.”

Dean blinks his eyes open and relaxes when he looks into the smiling face of Cas.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas.” Dean pants, coming down slightly and returning to a safe headspace.

“Are you scared?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nuh-uh.”

“You left me there for a minute. Where’d you go?”

“Dunno… kinda floated…” Dean slurs, eyes barely open. “s’good, Cas.”

“Green?”

“Green - Green.”

Cas presses his palm against Dean’s still hard cock. “Mmmm, it is good. You ready” Cas asks between kisses down Dean’s neck.

“Nuf talk… Thought you was gonna… put that mouth to better use.” Dean gives Cas a lopsided grin and grips his shoulders, pushing him down until Cas’s hot breath is on Dean’s hard cock.


	27. Once Upon A Time...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean leans against the wall just outside the bedroom door. He wants to surprise Cas when he comes out of the bathroom so, he pauses and listens. Upon hearing the toilet flush and some shuffling around in the room, he is about to open the door when he hears the recognizable squeaking of the bedsprings, suddenly realizing Cas is not directly leaving the bedroom. Dean hesitates, his hand hovers over the doorknob. The soft sound of Cas’s voice catches Dean off guard.  
> Dean doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but he stands quietly, listening as Cas berates himself. He hears a deep, harsh, shaky exhale, ‘Is Cas crying? Does he regret being with me? Is he tired of me already?’ Dean feels panic roil in his gut.

“Hey, Cassie, just FYI, there are some people coming over later today,” Gabe announces around a large bite of his pastry.

“The usual?” Cas asks as he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, basic gang.”

“Great…” Cas sighs.

“Dude, nobody's gonna mess with your little honeymoon. Besides, it might do the two of you some good to be around people for a change.” Gabe waggles his eyebrows at the pair.

Cas ignores him and plates waffles for himself and Dean.

Dean, quietly smiling, watches Cas’s every move; eyes settling on his ass when he bends to pick up a dropped fork.

“Dean-o, dude, you're practically drooling there, my friend.” Gabe teases.

“Fuck you, Gabe,” Dean replies, with no malice behind his words.

“We were around people all day yesterday at the zoo.” Comments Cas, choosing to stay out of Dean and Gabe’s little tiff.

“Ugh, suburban-parents with sticky ankle-biters no doubt. You’re such a freak.”

“Stop pickin’ on Cas.” Dean glares at Gabe with frightening intent.

Cas places a plate in front of Dean. Leaning down, he takes Dean’s chin in his hand, turning his face towards Cas. Dean’s features quickly soften as he looks into those deep pools of blue. Cas’s lips curl into a small smile, and he brings their lips together in a soft, barely-there kiss.

Dean sighs and chases after more as Cas retreats. When Dean opens his eyes, he finds Cas sitting in front of his own plate of waffles, sipping his coffee. A small whine bubbles out from Dean, and Cas just smiles into his cup.

Gabe clears his throat. “Still right here, guys.”

Cas chuckles and Dean rolls his eyes as he takes up his fork, eating a huge bite of syrup-drenched waffle.

“So, you lovebirds have big plans or just fu…” Cas’s intense glare stops Gabe mid-sentence. “... ooor just fun, free time?” He smiles after adjusting his words.

“Cas is gonna tell me his story.” Dean shares proudly.

“He’s gonna what? What story?”

Dean frowns. “His life, ya know… how he got where he is now. That kinda story.”

“Yeah, the story of my life, assbutt.” Cas snarks.

“Yeeaahh, that won't take long. Hey, Dude, I’m way more interesting than this paintbrush pusher.” Gabe jokes.

“Well, I don’t really give a f…” Dean stops and swivels his head to look at Cas so fast it almost makes him dizzy as Cas lays his hand on Dean’s arm

“Hey, Babe, how about you finish your breakfast, so we can go sit out by the pool for a while?” Cas requests calmly, keeping his voice level and slightly lower than normal.

“Okay, Cas.” Dean smiles brightly. Turning to face Gabe, he sticks out his tongue.

Gabe gives Dean a look that screams “Yeah, whatever.”

“Oh, Cassie, Crowley sent the final payment yesterday.”

Dean chokes on his food, Gabe and Cas both watch him worriedly.

“You okay, Baby?” Dean shakes his head, then changes to a nod. Catching his breath, he takes a drink of his orange juice.

“M’fine.” he squeaks, unconvincingly.

“Cassie,” Gabe continues, once Dean is breathing normally again. “Crowley is still pushing for you to do that series.”

“Fuck Crowley. I already told him no.”

Dean slouches in his chair, pushing the remaining few bites around on his plate. He is purposely not looking at either Cas or Gabe, his actions catching Cas’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” Dean shakes his head, still fiddling with his food.

“Hey,” Cas coos, “Gabe and I aren't fighting, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

Dean just shakes his head again and puts down his fork. “Can I be done?” He asks quietly, childlike, looking down at his lap.

Cas shifts and takes Dean’s face in his hands. “Dean, you don’t have to ask permission to be finished eating. Do you feel alright? You’re not ill are you?” Cas touches Dean’s forehead then his cheek with the back of his hand.

“You don’t feel too warm.”

“‘m not sick, just, can we go outside now?”

Cas gives him a kiss on the forehead and musses his hair, which has gotten quite scruffy. When Cas first met him, he could tell that Dean once had a very short-cut style with the top longer than the sides. He often wondered if Dean used to keep his hair styled with a spiky look. Now though, the sides are covering the tops of his ears, the back is halfway down his neck, and he has fringe that falls in his eyes. Cas thinks the current style makes Dean look much younger.

“Sure, you head on out, I’ll just clean this up.”

Dean nods, giving a small smile, he gets up and leaves the kitchen.

“Tha-hell, dude? Your boyfriend’s…”

“He’s what!?” Cas spits venom at Gabe.

“... moody as fuck.” Gabe recovers.

“Just don’t push him, Gabe. He’s doing so much better than he was a few months ago.” Cas implores, as he washes the few dishes that he and Dean used.

“Has he ever met Crowley?” Gabe asks as he pours a fresh cup of coffee.

Cas pauses. “Not that I know of, why?”

“I may be imagining things, but it seems like he freaks-the-fuck-out when he hears Crowley’s name. I figured if he met him, he must be just as skeeved by him as you are.”

“He wasn’t there the day we went to the gallery. Dean’s never mentioned meeting him.” Cas shrugs as he heads out to find Dean.

* * *

 

Dean comes out of the pool house with a huge patchwork quilt draped over his shoulders and flowing behind him like a cape, laughing and swishing his oversize cape.

Cas finishes lighting the fire and is laughing so hard he nearly falls when he goes to sit on the chaise lounge. (He loves this old-fashioned little couch. He’s used it on many occasions when posing models because he adores the way the back curves up to the high arm on one end.)

Dean straightens his giant cape and steps up on the chaise, one foot on either side of Cas’s legs, laughing along with Cas he looks down and catches his eyes. He stretches his arms high and wide above his head, the quilt posing as a colorful wall behind him. Dean leans down and grabs the back of the seat; the quilt becomes a tent over them. He teases Cas with a quick kiss on the tip of his nose as he slowly lowers himself to a seated position, straddling Cas.

“Mmm, this is nice.” Cas hums as Dean kisses along his jawline and below his ear.

“You like this?” Dean whispers between nibbles, licking a stripe up Cas’s neck, over his adam's apple and up to his chin, hot breaths along the cool, wet skin.

“Do you?” Cas needs confirmation that Dean is actually into this and not acting out like he had done when triggered.

“Green. So green, Cas.” Dean replies, his lips feathering against Cas’s, sharing his air.

Cas moves enough to make the connection and captures Dean’s lips. They both tilt their heads simultaneously to deepen the kiss, opening and taking in each other in a well-practiced motion.

Dean presses down against Cas, letting go of the couch, his hands flying to touch Cas everywhere he can. He pushes up Cas’s t-shirt, needing to feel his warm skin under his fingers. One hand rubbing up and down along Cas’s ribs and the other tracing his nipple.

“Mfhh… ‘ean…” Cas moans into Dean’s mouth. His hands gripping, massaging Dean’s lower back just above the waistline of his jeans. When Dean pinches his nipple, Cas bucks up, groaning. His hands take purchase on Dean’s ass, pulling him down tight.

Dean smiles, pulling his face back just enough to see Cas.

“You keep this up, and I’m gonna need a cold shower, Babe.”

Dean’s smile falls, and he sits up in the attempt to get off Cas’s lap.

“Hey, where you going?”

“Dunno, but…” he pauses, putting his hands on his own thighs, biting his lip and lowering his eyes. “jus’ stoppin’ so you don’t hafta do nothing’ you don’t wanna do.”

“What? Hey…” Cas reaches up and gently places his hand on Dean’s cheek. “Baby, I definitely like this. I like it a lot.” he looks down at his own lap, the outline of his dick quite obvious in his jeans.

“But, you don’t wanna do… ya know…” Dean pouts, his eyes glassy, dejection apparent on his features.

“Dean, Sweetheart, I _want_ to do all kinds of things… God, the things I want to with you… The only thing I don’t want to do is to push you into anything before you’re ready. We both know what that’s like and it’s not a good thing for you.”

“Caaas…” Dean whines, leaning to the side and falling off Cas onto the chaise, covering his face with the quilt, pulling it off Cas in the process. Cas blinks at the bright sunlight.

“Great, thanks, Babe.” He shoves Dean the rest of the way off his lap and marches to the French doors of the pool house. “I’m going to take a piss.” He calls back to the lump on the lounge.

Cas comes out of the bathroom and sits on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “Idiot. Stop second guessing every-fucking-thing. You're going to drive him away… then what? Back to fucking zero, that’s what. Nobody wants to be with a loser who can’t commit. Stupid fucking child. Too scared to try. God… Why am I punishing him with my dumb-ass issues? Such a fucking idiot.” Cas covers his face with his hands, taking a shaky breath. “What made me think I could do this?” He chokes back his tears. “Fuck!”

Dean leans against the wall just outside the bedroom door. He wants to surprise Cas when he comes out of the bathroom so; he pauses and listens. Upon hearing the toilet flush and some shuffling around in the room, he is about to open the door when he hears the soft squeaking of the bedsprings, suddenly realizing Cas is not directly leaving the bedroom. Dean hesitates, his hand hovers over the doorknob. The soft sound of Cas’s voice catches Dean off guard. Cas is talking out loud, to himself. ‘ Huh, guess crazy attracts crazy.’ Dean doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he stands quietly, listening as Cas berates himself. He hears a deep, harsh, shaky exhale, ‘ _Is Cas crying? Does he regret being with me? Is he tired of me already?_ ’ Dean feels panic roil in his gut.

Cas wipes his hands down his face then wipes his hands on his jeans. Taking a cleansing breath, he decides to give up this pity party and go check on Dean. ‘ _I can’t back out now, I don’t think I could live without him._ ’ He jumps when he hears a loud crash of glass then thumping and more crashing objects.

“Fuck! Shitshitshit!!” He hears Dean screaming in the studio.

“What the hell?” Cas runs out the bedroom door. “Dean? What the HELL!!?” He yells as he surveys the tornado path that was his studio.

“Shit! God! Shit! Sorry! Aauuggh!” Dean yelps as he flails around at the far end of the room, his hand narrowly missing the lampshade.

“Would you fucking stop! Be still!” Cas shouts. “What the fuck happened!?”

Dean stops flailing but continues to scratch at his arms and looks around the edges of the room, eyes as big as saucers, panting and completely terrified. “Where is it? Where the fuck is it?” He practically screams at Cas.

“Jesus, Dean! WHAT?”

Dean raises his hand in the air toward Cas, “It fuckin’ crawled up my goddamn arm Cas! Your house is fuckin’ infested! I’m gonna die! Shit!! What if it fuckin’ bit me!!? Fuck Fuck !!” His eyes dart around, but he doesn’t focus on anything.

Cas glares at Dean, anger rolling off him in waves. He takes in the full extent of the damage in the room. Turning away from the room and from Dean, he takes a deep breath and holds it, counting to ten before releasing. He needs to do this three more times before he dares turn around. When he finally turns back towards the disaster he calls his studio, he slowly raises his eyes to Dean. ‘ _Fuck, he’s bleeding_.’ Cas notices the shimmering, dark-red trail of newly formed scratches on Dean’s forearm.

“Dean.” But Dean continues his frantic search of the room, looking everywhere except at Cas, all the while digging his fingernails into his forearm. “DEAN! Look at me!” He yells, unable to fully control his anger at the moment, compounded by the fact that he needs to gain control over this whole situation.

Dean’s eyes focus on Cas, but he still twitches and scratches at his arm.

“Stop scratching! Walk over here - _careful not to step on anything_!” Because of course Dean is barefoot.

Dean picks his path carefully, watching his feet as he slowly makes his way to Cas.

“You have two choices.” Cas grips Dean’s shoulders (to keep himself from doing anything stupid and to keep Dean’s attention focused). “A- Go sit outside on the chaise and wait for me; B- go take a shower to wash off the itchy feeling.”

“B,” Dean says as he scratches at his neck, leaving tacky traces of blood from his freshly wounded arm.

Cas continues to hold Dean in place, gazing into those wild green eyes, watching as the irises decrease in size. Once he can see more of that beautiful green than the black of the iris, he slides his hands to the back of Dean’s neck, playing with his soft, sweaty hair. He allows enough time for them both to calm down, then he pulls Dean toward him, meeting his lips in a tender kiss. He leans his forehead against Dean’s, “Go take your shower and we’ll talk about this - after. And clean your scratches, the neosporin is under the bathroom sink..”

Dean nods and chases after Cas’s lips.

“Yeah, no…” Cas leans back. “no more of that until - after.” He motions to the mess and to Dean. He guides Dean to the bedroom and grabs a towel for him.

Cas goes back to the studio, standing with one hand on his hip and the other covering his eyes, he waits to hear Dean start the shower.

“Jesus! How can anyone cause this much destruction so fast?” He questions as he begins picking up and checking over his canvases and other supplies. He puts his beloved unfinished paintings back in place, once he makes sure there is no real damage to them. Then he sweeps up the glass and puts the brushes in the sink so he can check for glass remnants in the bristles.

He hears the shower stop and moments later he feels Dean watching him from the bedroom door. He can’t make himself turn or speak until he finishes his task of washing his brushes. Shaking out the last of his brushes, he leans his hands on the edge of the sink. “I’m going to the kitchen to find something to put these in.”

Dean shifts to lean against the wall inside the bedroom door. He waits, still and silent, for Cas to return. A few minutes later, he hears the door open and close, then the sound of the wooden-handled brushes hitting the inside base of some sort of container.

“Dean? Will you please come sit with me so we can talk?”

Dean slides against the wall and rolls his shoulder around the door frame. He spots Cas sitting in the chair across from the couch, recognizing that that must mean Cas isn’t ready to sit next to him on the couch. He takes a few hesitant steps away from the safety of the bedroom, pausing when he eyes the old brown crockery pitcher which now holds Cas’s paint brushes. He gulps and glances around the room, everything is once again tidy and clean. By the time he reaches the couch, he’s shaking and unable to look at Cas.

“Sit down, Baby, I’m not angry… anymore.” Cas says calmly.

Dean sits. His hands on his knees, back straight and head down. There’s no way he can sit comfortably when he messed up so badly and he knows Cas is still angry, no matter what he claims.

“Will you please explain what happened?”

Not looking up, Dean begins to mumble. “I was gonna… I came in to… I wasn’t, didn’t mean to be eavesdropping….” He takes a shaky breath and wipes his eyes with his forearm.

Cas doesn’t interrupt, he knows that it takes Dean a few tries when he is this upset. He wants Dean to feel comfortable enough that when incidents or accidents happen, they can talk about it. So he waits, trying hard not to grind his teeth. He doesn’t want his outward appearance to show anything other than openness if he can help it.

“I heard what you said, Cas. All that bad shit - about yourself. It’s not true.” Dean glances up at Cas, who’s biting his top lip with his eyes tightly shut. . Wiping his eyes again, Dean takes a few barely controlled breaths while rubbing his hands along his thighs, trying to work up the courage to tell Cas what happened. “You ain’t stupid, Cas. You ain’t a fuck up. …”

Cas squinches up his face in an attempt to hold on to the small amount of calm he has remaining. He wants to fall apart and confess how freaked out he is, how this whole situation is the biggest scariest thing he’s ever done. He sucks in some much-needed air and opens his eyes, but he can’t make himself look at Dean, not yet. He knows if he does he will break down. So, he stares at his own hands in his lap.

“You stopped talkin’ and I was just about to go in the bedroom when…” Dean huffs out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head at his own stupidity. “Then, a fuckin s-s- sp-BUG crawled up my damn arm and I freaked the fuck out. That - THAT’s what an idiot does, Cas. THAT’s what stupid, fucked up, useless idiots do. THAT ain’t YOU, you ain’t a idiot!” He wipes his face with the inside of his shirt collar. “Fuck! Cas, I’m so sorry. I broke your stuff. God! Shit!!” Dean squeezes his thighs, making a fist he hits his leg. “Fuck!” he cries out.

“Dean. It’s okay. The only thing that broke was the glass jar.” Cas reaches over the coffee table and grabs Dean’s wrists, stopping him from hitting himself.

“But your paintings!” Dean sounds so desperate. “God, I knocked them down, and your stand… Fuck! You shouldn’t let me near your stuff. All I do is break shit.”

“Don’t! Don’t even go there! One damn jar broke. I’m just glad YOU didn’t get hurt!”

Cas steps over the coffee table and sits next to Dean. Pulling him close, he leans against the back of the couch. Adjusting so they are both more comfortable, he rubs Dean’s back and hums. He’s not sure how long they sit there, but he allows tears to roll down his cheeks while he soothes Dean, who is shaking with his own sobs.

He finally feels Dean take a few deep, calming breaths and relax against him.

“When my Mom was taking art classes at the community center, she met a young man who was teaching a creative writing course…”

Dean looks up at Cas, red, puffy face full of confusion.

“You wanted to hear my story.” Cas wipes the hair out of Dean’s eye and gives him a kiss on the forehead.

Dean snuggles against Cas as he continues.

Cas settles in and relays the fairytale-esque story of how his parents met and fell in love, against the wishes of her parents, the harsh treatment and cold shoulder they received when they shared the joyful news of their pregnancy. He shares his childhood memories of art fairs and poetry readings at local bookstores and parks. He tells Dean about his twelfth birthday and the trip to the large department store; how happy and excited he and his parents were, them singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him in the car as they left the store.

“God, I’d completely forgotten about them singing to me,” Cas gives Dean a watery smile. “Damn, how could I forget that?”

Dean rubs his hand along Cas’s thigh. “It’s okay, Cas. Weren’t you knocked out in the wreck? Memories are weird like that, sometimes the bad stuff gets in the way of the good stuff. I’m just glad you remember that little bit of good now.”

Cas rubs his cheek in Dean’s hair. “Me, too, Baby.”

“So, you know about Uncle Michael and his bigoted attitude. But, at least his hard ass business ways were a good way for me to learn how to deal with people in the real world. I was also able to make a lot of connections through his business partners and associates. Being Michael Milton’s nephew wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to me. He put me to work with his staff when I was fifteen, I started out washing dishes in the country club but that didn’t last when Michael’s Event Planner spotted me and put me out on the floor serving during events. That’s when things really changed, I was able to listen in on conversations and learn secrets about some of the more prominent elite crowd. I did just that, I listened and absorbed secrets, business tactics, and all sorts of information that those snobs shared with each other once they had a few drinks in them.”

Dean grins up at Cas, “You devious little spy.”

“Shut up. My _spying_ got me in the door to some of the most unattainable people in Texas. Dude, I was rubbing elbows with billionaires on a regular basis, and they thought I was just some shy kid bringing them champagne and horderves. It wasn’t long before I had enough information to start making business deals of my own.”

“Cas, you _were_ a kid. You had a safe home and money and all that, why did you need to make deals with rich bastards?”

“Sweetheart, my uncle was priming me to become his heir, in business, not in family. That man had no love to spare for anyone, me least of all. His disdain for me rolled off him in waves. He only took me in because it was a good business move. He was willing to pay for my education, on his terms. He expected me to bow to his every wish, and be the person he wanted me to become. I knew I couldn’t do that. The more he pushed me, the more I used him. I took his money but only to serve my needs as a child with no income of my own. Once I had saved up enough, I hired a lawyer and sued for my emancipation. But that also meant that I no longer received money from him, I no longer had a place in his house. It did however, mean that I was able to unlock my mother's finances, everything that was rightfully hers was lawfully mine. Dean, she had given up everything to be with my father and me. I knew I had to use her money to better my life, build my own baseline savings. I also learned that her grandfather had named her in his will which was endowed to any children she had; yet more fuel to Michael’s fire, he was given ownership of the family business and controlling stock of all subsidiaries, but nothing as far as actual money in the bank.”

“Shit, so your mom could have been loaded but she chose to live in a dump and scrape for enough money to put fuckin’ food on the table? I still don’t get why she’d give up all that money.”

“If she had accepted the terms of her parents, and brother, she would never have been able to see my father again. They had already chosen a man for her to marry, a life for her to fulfill. Nothing they expected from her had anything to do with the things she was interested in or loved for that matter. She was expected to put away her art and become a trophy wife for an up-and-coming executive. When she became pregnant, with me, her family gave her an ultimatum. Walk away from my father and abort the pregnancy or be cut off from her parents, and by proxy her grandparents. The only family she ever knew would be taken away from her if she chose to remain with my dad and not abort. _She chose us_. Dean, she chose to live penniless over living a lie. As much as she loved her parents, and more so her grandparents,  she couldn’t live the life they wanted for her. As soon as she told them no, they locked the door behind her and she was never allowed to speak to any of them again. She learned about her grandfather's passing in the newspaper obituaries, but was not allowed to attend his funeral.”

Dean tightly hugs Cas, “I’m glad they didn’t convince her to abort. This world would be empty without you in it. I think I understand now. It had to be hard to walk away from all that, though. I mean, my family was taken from me when I was just a little kid, and there were no choices or ultimatums in that. I’m also glad you had someone there for you, even if y'all didn’t really like each other, he never laid a hand on you. That’s somthin’.”

“I know, Babe, I’m not about to complain about the fact that I had a roof over my head and three meals a day. I’m grateful that I was given a home. I was lucky enough to have loving parents for twelve years, I had the chance to learn from them and they gave me a good base to guide my life choices. They taught me art and a love for reading, learning, and self reliance; they taught me to look at the world and ask questions. My uncle tried to quash that burning need for answers and my desire to follow my heart when it came to my art, but I knew my parents would have been disappointed if I had given in to his bullying. No way was I going to desecrate their memory by falling into his trap. Dean, he was already trying to set up potential spouses for me, from the time I arrived at twelve years old! There were business partners that he was actually interviewing for potential arranged marriages when their daughters came of age. Who does that?”

“Jesus, that’s fucked up.” Dean sits up and goes to the mini fridge to get them both a bottle of juice. Settling back in next to Cas, he gives him a kiss on the cheek and watches as he takes a drink, patiently waiting on more information about Cas’s past. He had no idea that Cas had gone through so much emotional pain in his youth. Somehow, despite all his childhood trauma, Cas has so much love to give and craves for the love of others, as much as he tries to hide it. Dean smiles at the image of a very stoic Castiel greeting his therapy group for the first time, all shy and watchful.

Cas gives a full body shudder, “Enough about Michael. You know about my selling paintings on the street, you got a lot of that info from Ellen. Did I ever tell you that my first paying gig was as a model for an art class? Or that I sold my first painting for really big money when I was sixteen? A woman paid a thousand bucks for a painting of an angel, it was the first time I put one of my angels up for sale. The one she bought was Gadreel, the guardian of Eden. It turned out that people liked my angels. Two years later,  that was how I got my first show featuring my art. This big European art dealer was at that show and the next thing I knew Gabe was lining me up for a show in London. Eighteen years old and I had a commission for headliner in a show in London!”

“Wait, you were a model?”

“ _That’s_ what you latched onto? _Of course_ it is. Not the fact that I was the youngest artist to present as a main attraction at a huge London art exhibit. No, you want to know about a skinny kid modelling for art classes.” Cas laughs and pokes at Dean, making him squirm and laugh while trying to grab at Cas’s hands.

“So, did you model nude?” Dean snickers and looks up at Cas with bright green eyes twinkling as they catch the sunlight streaming in the window. Cas rolls his eyes. Dean blinks and flutters his eyelashes, “Hmmm..?” he teases at Cas.

“Only when necessary.” Cas concedes.

“God, lucky art classes.” Dean teases.

“Shut up. I was sixteen-seventeen years old, I hadn’t even reached my full height yet, much less filled out, I was still a skinny kid. I’m not sure they were all that lucky drawing my boney ass.” Cas laughs and shoves Dean over, causing him to spill the last sip of his juice down his front.

Dean gasps as the cold juice seeps through his t-shirt. He pounces on Cas, wiping his wet chest against Cas’s face. Cas turns the tables and launches Dean onto his back, shoving his shirt up to his underarms while laughing and nipping at him. He grabs Dean’s wrists and pins them over his head on the arm of the couch as he continues to tickle him with his nibbles and breath against his bare torso. Nibbles turn to kisses and Cas works his way up from Dean’s belly to his neck. Cas leans up and looks into Dean’s face. Dean has stopped laughing, his eyes are dilated and his mouth agape, he is breathing as hard as Cas. Cas tilts his head slightly and raises his eyebrows in question, Dean answers by capturing Cas’s lips with his own.


	28. Pool Party (plus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, Cas, there's a naked guy in your pool"  
> Gabriel's friends, models, and others arrive for a typical party.  
> Dean and Cas end up just a little late for the party.

“Cas,” Dean calls from his spot in front of the French doors.

“What?” Cas answers from the bathroom.

“There’s a naked guy in your pool.”

The toilet flushes and Dean hears the water running, then he hears Cas brushing his teeth.

“That’s probably Emmett. Tall skinny guy, brown hair, blue eyes?”

“Huge dick!” Dean gasps.

Cas laughs and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, peeking over his shoulder.

“All that and he’s a bossy-fuckin-bottom,” Cas informs.  “But he’s a goddamn master at jacking off.” He teases Dean’s earlobe as he whispers.

“Daaaamn…” Dean draws out.

Cas slides his hand down and rubs Dean’s growing cock.

“Like what you see?” He kisses Dean’s neck. “Emmett is on one of those online porn sites, he has over a million subscribers. Wanna meet him?”

Dean leans back, pressing himself against Cas while Cas continues to rub his cock through his now tight jeans. “Mmm, God, Cas… Wait…” Dean turns to look at Cas. “He’s a legit porn star?”

“Yes, Babe, a  _ legit _ porn star.” He winks and teases. “Like I’d associate myself with anything less ... I’ll introduce you.“

Dean’s mouth flaps but he has no idea what to say. He nods and shakes his head in an unbalanced, awkward motion, looking completely befuddled. His brain, body, and mouth are completely out of sync. “Yes, no… Cas… Porn Star?!”

There is a tapping on the door. Dean turns to look and is face to face with the Porn Star. A single pane of glass between them. He gasps and gags on his own spit.

“Holy shit,” he chokes out.

“Hey, Castiel,” Emmett says through the door, flashing a big, toothy smile at them. “The toilets are locked,” he says, pointing his thumb toward the small shed adjacent to the pool house.

“Hang on a sec, let me get the key.” Cas holds up one finger then walks to counter near the sink.

Dean just stands there staring at the man through the door.

“Baby,” Cas reaches around Dean to open the door. “Dean, I need to open the door.”

Dean nods still stuck in place.

“Move… ugh! Jesus, Dean.” Cas groans and pulls Dean out of his way.

Emmett leans in to take the key and gives Cas a kiss on the cheek, winking at Dean.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Emmett curtsies. “I was just before sprinkling the bushes and you know I like to stay as far away from a  _ bush _ as I can!” He giggles as he tip-toe runs to the toilet/shed.

Cas snickers and looks at Dean, who is still staring toward the shed, completely dumbfounded.

“Dean, hello… geezzus…” Cas draws out as he grabs Dean’s face and plants a truly pornographic kiss, pushing Dean against the doors. He slides one hand to the nape of Dean’s neck and the other to his ass, pulling their hips tight together.

Dean melts into his arms, losing himself completely in everything that is Cas. Moaning as he grabs Cas’s ass with both hands.

“I’ll just put this next to the sink, shall I?” Emmett slips passed them into the studio, placing the key on the counter. The bare-ass, voyeuristic porn star leans back and watches as Cas and Dean grind into each other like a couple of horney teenagers. Emmett notices a few more people out on the patio and waves, motioning for someone to snap some pictures of the two horn-dogs dry humping against the French doors. Pretty soon, they have a small audience, chattering away and snapping pictures and selfies.

Emmett turns on the outdoor speakers and cranks the music to a thumping house beat.

Dean nearly jumps out of his skin and Cas practically has a heart attack.

“The fuck, Emmett?!” yells Cas.

“This party needs sounds, darling.” Emmett grins at Cas. 

His hands still on his chest. Recovering from his near-death experience, Cas huffs and looks down at his bulging jeans.

Dean is breathing like he just ran a marathon, his arms are wrapped across his chest and he’s rocking side to side, hitting the door with his shoulder, his eyes unfocused directed toward the floor.

“ _ You _ are a dick.” Cas snaps, pointing at Emmett, who gives him a smile and flips him off as he slips out the door.

Cas notices how tense Dean is and grabs Dean’s arm, pulling him into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them. This is not good, Cas knows he has to do something or he’s going to lose Dean to his anxiety. He gently rubs Dean’s biceps, trying to bring him back to the here and now. “Hey, Baby,” He nudges his forehead against Dean’s, forcing Dean to look at him. “Hey, hi.” He smiles and coos at Dean, “You okay?” Dean shrugs. “Talk to me, Baby.”

“T-they… watched…Don’t like watchers...” Dean mutters, shifting his eyes to the side.

“Oh, Dean, Baby, I’m sorry.” Cas embraces Dean. “I didn’t mean to put you- us - on display. I was just so... mmm fucking into you, that I forgot about the rest of the world.”

Dean huffs. “You should write fuckin’ Hallmark cards, Mister Smoothe.”

Cas barks out a laugh, pushing off Dean. “Sure! Roses are Red; Violets are Blue; I’m not sorry I dry humped you!”

Dean pinches Cas’s side. “Asshole.”

“So…” Cas raises his eyebrows.

“So?”

“So. Do you want to pick up where we left off?”

“You wanna hump my leg?”

Cas shoves Dean toward the bed, they both laugh at the terrible joke. “Well, that would get me off, but what about you?” His voice drops at least an octave, pushing Dean back with one finger against Dean’s chest. Cas’s eyes are wide with lust as he stares into Dean’s very soul.

“Fuckin’ hell, Cas... “ Dean shivers as his legs bump the bed.

Cas fists the waist of Dean’s jeans, jerking his hips forward, he unbuttons and unzips Dean’s fly. He never wavers from their intense eye contact. He opens his own fly and grinds against Dean.

“Clothes. Off.” He growls.

Dean blinks slowly and his cock fills in reaction to Cas’s voice. It takes him a moment for his upper brain to catch up. Cas is already shirtless and in the process of becoming pantless when Dean grabs the hem of his borrowed Henley, tugging it unceremoniously over his head. Shoving down his jeans, Dean bends to get his feet free and Cas grabs his hips and grinds his hard cock against Dean’s ass. Dean nearly loses his balance and puts his hands on the bed for support, the position is familiar but not altogether bad.  He reaches a hand back to try and get rid of his boxer briefs, which is impossible with Cas still rubbing up against him.

“Naked? Cas?” He pants, suddenly unsure if Cas wants him completely undressed. Before Dean can become absorbed in his own insecurity, Cas hooks his fingers in the elastic of Dean’s shorts and slides them slowly over his ass, pink and sensitive from the fabric rubbing against his skin.

Kneeling, Cas helps Dean step out of his last remaining article of clothing. He slides his hands over Dean’s perfectly bowed legs. Starting at his ankle, Cas kisses up the back of those strong, scarred legs. Reaching the tender skin where the leg meets butt cheek, he brings his hand up to cup and massage it. Continuing to massage with one hand, Cas bends down and gives the other leg the same attention. Once both hands are on Dean’s ass, Cas circles and massages the muscles. He pulls the cheeks apart and breaths his hot breath on Dean’s hole.

“So perfect, so hot.”

Cas licks Dean from his scrotum all the way up to the base of his spine. When Cas’s tongue wipes across Dean’s hole, Dean lets out a whimper and his knees buckle under him.

“Holy… fuck… Cas….” Dean pants. “Green. Green. Green. Green.” He manages on both his intake and exiting breaths, his head going light and his legs shaking. His arms give and he lands on his elbows, cradling his head in his own hands against the edge of the mattress.

They’ve enjoyed a lot of sexual activities together, especially since Dean has been staying with Cas, but they have shied away from intercourse. Cas worries about triggering him, after all, Dean still has issues with being touched by people - well, people who aren’t Cas. They usually end up grinding against each other, trading hand jobs, or blowjobs. Lots of blowjobs. They seem to be able to find a spot for that just about anywhere they visit. (They may never be able to visit the Old Navy in the mall again.)

Right now, though, Dean wants Cas’s dick in his ass more than air in his lungs.

Cas flicks his tongue against the tight ring of muscle, causing a litany of sounds to bubble out of Dean - from moans to profanity to sounds that Dean will forever deny. Cas grins at the sounds and nips Dean on the tender inside of his cheek.

“Hey!” Dean squeals.

“Just making sure you’re still with me, Princess.”

“Oh, now I’m your Priiiiiinceessss!?!” Dean squeaks as Cas pushes a spit-wet finger in his hole.

Cas pumps his finger a few times and pushes against the rim. Pulling down gently as he slides his tongue in as far as humanly possible. Flexing and thrusting his tongue, he adds another finger. Saliva dripping down his hand and all over Dean’s balls.

Pulling his face away, he observes the wet sloppy mess he has made and takes a moment to watch his fingers as they scissor and thrust in and out of Dean’s dusty-pink hole. His dick twitches as his fingers do all the work.

“Dean,” is all he can manage, his voice gravely and octaves lower than normal. His brain misfires and he has no idea what words were supposed to be falling from his lips.

“C - Ca - Caa...” Dean moans into the mattress.

Cas eyes the bedside table then contemplates using spit instead of lube. No. He can’t hurt Dean. “Need the fuckin’ lube.” He groans, slipping his fingers free.

Dean moans and whines loudly at the absence, pushing back chasing Cas’s hand.

“Lube.” Cas kisses the small of Dean’s back. It’s only a few feet away but it might as well be miles as Cas knee-walks to the retrieve the prize from the small drawer.

“Yes!” He announces as he grabs the purple bottle. He pauses, ‘ _ Condom? _ ’ looking at Dean, “Condom?”

“Cock!” Replies Dean, no need for explanations or details.

“Scoot up, get comfortable.” Cas trails his fingers up Dean’s leg and across his back.

Dean’s legs shake and buckle when he moves to crawl on the bed.

“H-How do you want me?” he asks, feeling a pang of anxiety.

“How do YOU want to be? You’re in charge, Baby.” Cas massages Dean’s thighs as Dean registers the idea and makes a decision.

“I wanna see you.” He answers after careful consideration.

“Then get comfortable,” Cas repeats, grabbing an extra pillow to situate under Dean’s hips.

Kneeling on the foot of the bed, Cas watches Dean get himself arranged. His legs bent and spread, so Cas can see his hole and his cock, thick, hard, and pointing at his belly. The head dark and glistening with precum. Cas’s hand's hand slides along his own cock, coating it with lube, as he takes in the sight before him.

Crawling to Dean, Cas places his hands on Dean’s knees and leans down, taking Dean’s cockhead into his mouth, licking and sucking the precum.

“Oh, god, Cas!”

Cas releases with a pop and reaches forward to kiss Dean. Their cocks press and rub together between them, the lube on Cas makes them slide beautifully.

Dean jerks and thrusts up into it, wanting, needing, begging for more.

Raising his hips, Cas adjusts so that his cock is pressing against Dean’s puckered hole. He can feel Dean flexing, inviting him in.

“Cas, nghh…”

Straightening his arms, Cas raises so that he can look at Dean, his cock presses harder against Dean with the movement.

“Where are you, Dean?”

“Mmaa… Here… Gre-een… Need… mmm.”

“I love you, Dean,” Cas assures him.

“Love you, Ca-as.”

Cas pushes against the ring of muscle. Dean lets out a loud moan and grabs Cas’s forearms as he feels Cas’s cock breech his opening. He pushes up to meet Cas, wanting to be filled completely.

Dean squeezes Cas’s arms so hard, he’s sure he’ll leave bruises, but he can’t care about that. He’s died and this is heaven. His very own heaven with Cas slowly entering him, deeper and deeper. When Cas bottom’s out, he pauses, and Dean can feel Cas’s whole body shaking with the effort to remain still.

“Dean?” Cas growls the word, questioning, needing to know that Dean is present.

Dean leans up to meet Cas’s lips. “Green - Green - love you.”  He groans between kisses and whimpers as he falls back against the pillows.

Cas follows his lips down, continuing the kiss, wet and sloppy. He pulls his cock almost out, the cool air is shocking to his hot skin. He fucks back into Dean hard, working himself into a rhythm.

“Oh - fuck - Cas - yes!”

Dean raises his feet, bringing his knees to his chest. Cas understands and adjusts so that Dean can rest his legs on Cas’s shoulders. This position change allows Cas to go even deeper.

“Oh - Oh - Ca - aaa- aah - aahh-,” Cas pounds the sounds out of Dean. 

Dean screams and Cas knows he’s found his target. He thrusts into the bundle of nerves again and again. Dean grabs the headboard, hooking his knees over Cas’s shoulders, he pushes up to meet Cas with each thrust. Cas slams into him, the head of his cock attacking Dean’s prostate. Hitting it on the way in and rubbing it on the way out.

Dean’s attempt at words has become a string of indiscernible porn worthy sounds. 

“Fuckkk, Dean, “ Cas reaches up and grabs Dean’s cock, but Dean slaps his hand away.

“Wan’ cumcock youonly.” Dean tries to make a sensible sentence.

Cas understands what Dean wants and grabs the lube, squirting more on his own hot, painfully hard cock. The next thrust slides in slick and noisy and beautiful. Cas watches his dick disappear into Dean and he nearly comes at the sight. Cas hisses and pauses deep inside Dean. His arms shake as he leans down and kisses Dean.

Lowering to his elbows, he forces Dean’s knees even closer, bending him in half as he begins his movements again. Slamming into Dean’s prostate. He can feel Dean’s cock jump with every strike.

“Have you… Ever, before?”

Dean shakes his head. “No. But you... fuckme no touch.” Dean pushes out the words in a wavering broken string.

“No pressure, then,” Cas smirks.

Cas slides out of Dean causing him to cry out at and reach for Cas.

“No, Cas, wha?”

“Shh, Baby, just adjusting...”  _ Kiss on the shin _ “...so I can...”  _ kiss on the inner thigh _ “...fuck...”  _ kiss on the scrotum _ “...this...”  _ kiss on the hole _ “...beautiful ass.”

Dean’s head is spinning, and he grabs Cas’s shoulders.

Cas pulls Dean’s legs around him. Sliding his hands under his cheeks, he lifts Dean so he can reach his hole better. Cas licks and sucks the swollen ring of muscle his nose pressing against Dean’s perineum. Cas hums and grunts as he goes to town on Dean. The sounds that Dean makes are music to his ears. 

Dean bucks and reaches for Cas, trying not to squeeze his head between his thighs, he grabs his knees and pulls them apart. 

Cas looks up, drooling all over Dean, and licks his way to the tip of Dean’s cock. Taking as much as he can into his mouth he lets Dean fuck up into him a couple of times before he pulls of with a wet slurp. He licks and kisses, wet open mouth kisses up Dean’s abs and chest. Cas attacks Dean’s mouth. Grabbing one of Dean’s hands and pushes himself up with the other,  he pulls Dean to follow. Sitting them up, Cas still on his knees, he leans back and props himself on his arms. Reaching up with one hand he pulls at Dean.

“Get on, Cowboy.” He winks.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Dean pulls up and positions himself over Cas. He lowers himself over the steel rod that is Cas’s cock. Sliding down smoothly until his ass is flush on Cas’s lap. Raising up he slams back down. His head falls back, looking up at the ceiling as he groans out a sound that is nothing but pure pleasure.

“That all you got?” Cas teases. “Thought you wanted to be a real Texan… Ride me, cowboy! Show me what you can do.”

Dean glares at Cas. Grabbing Cas’s shoulders, Dean gives his ass a little circle then raises up and slams down again.

Cas hisses, letting his head fall back as Dean slides up and down, giving a little twist as he works Cas’s cock with his interior muscles. He loves the feeling of Cas filling him so full and wants more. Arching his back, he comes down and Cas’s cockhead becomes a battering ram against his prostate, sending electricity throughout his body.

‘ _ Perfect. Perfect. Cas is perfect. _ ’ Plays on a loop in Dean’s mind. Sparks of white take over his vision. “Ah. Ah. Ah.” Every strike to that bundle of nerves sends more nonsensical noise out of his mouth. Dean’s cock twitches and his balls tighten. His inner muscles clench around Cas as he comes, he paints Cas’s chest with hot white streaks.

Cas grabs Dean’s dick and pumps, wiping his hand through the hot cum, he licks it off his fingers, his eyes focused on Dean’s. The sight causes Dean to spurt out more cum. His whole body shudders.

Cas pushes Dean onto his back and fucks into him fast, hard and deep.

“You - are - fucking - beautiful!” Cas drills each work with a hard thrust. He’s so close that he quickly loses any rhythm and jerks hard as his cum fills Dean.

“Nghgaah!” Cas falls onto one elbow, trying to keep his full weight off Dean. Both are panting and sweaty.

Dean pulls Cas down, capturing his mouth. He needs to taste Cas more than he needs to breathe.

Cas’s dick throbs as it softens. Before he slips out, Cas reaches down and fingers around his cock, bringing it up to his mouth, he sucks his own cum off his finger. Never letting his eyes leave Dean’s.

Dean smirks. “You kinky bastard.”

Cas smiles his big goofy, toothy smile and plugs Dean’s hole with his thumb while he crawls backward, kissing down Dean’s chest and licking the cum off his torso as he makes his way down. Cas hums and groans as he cleans his own cum from Dean. Fingering and tonguing the puffy, red ring of muscle.

Dean fists Cas’s hair. “Ahh, God, Cas! Holy fuck!”

Satisfied, he licks Dean’s balls and his soft cock, giving a kiss right on the tip. He crawls back up and gives Dean a messy kiss, grinning when Dean scrunches up his nose. He flops beside Dean, wholly and completely sated. He isn’t sure he could move if his life depended on it.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” Dean sits up just enough to find a blanket. Grabbing the quilt from the floor, he covers them both and snuggles against Cas’s side.

They both fall asleep in less than a minute.

Outside, the party rages on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have a little Southern Charm :) Emmett really needs to use the toilet and is too adorbs to come right out and tell Cas that he needs to piss, so we have what I think is a hilarious little phrase that is not uncommon down here in the South.  
>  “I was just before sprinkling the bushes and you know I like to stay as far away from a bush as I can!”  
> Well basically - From some feedback I received - the first half of this term confused some people.  
> "I was just before... (doing whatever)" There were those who thought my grammar was off - well it is, but it's not uncommon. The term means that the speaker was going to do something - in this case Emmett was going to pee on the bushes but 1. that's icky and 2. "Bush" is to close to the female anatomy that he really does not care to get near (2nd half of the phrase).  
> I'm just putting this here to remind everyone that our boys are in Texas and there may be Southern phrases that come up in the story that not everyone will 'get the joke', it's not much difference than when a UK native writes in words or phrases that don't fit the typical US standard.   
> Just roll with it and feel free to ask me if you have a question.  
> Love ya! Thanks for reading! and comments are golden!!!


	29. Party Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas takes Dean by the hand and leads him out to the patio.  
> As soon as they step outside, Emmett (who, to Dean’s relief, is now wearing clothes - well, practically painted on gold pants and a fishnet top covered by a faux-fur crop jacket) attacks them in a group hug. Dean struggles against the embrace.   
> Leading them to the food table, Emmett belts out the lyrics to the ultimate Grease/Rizzo song, “There are worse things I could doooo… Than go with a boy… or.. two! Even though the neighborhood thinks I’m trashy, and no good, I suppose It could be true…”   
> Dean stares in awe as the flamboyant man sings.

It’s the blood-curdling scream that causes Cas to sit straight up in bed. He looks around and sees Dean still sound asleep. ‘ _ God, how can he sleep through such a horrible sound? How long had they been asleep?’ _

Cas stands and looks out the window. There is a very upset, fully-dressed woman climbing out of the pool. ‘ _ Well, that explains the screaming.’ _

The music is still blasting, and the party looks to be typical of the usual chaos that happens when these people gather in his backyard. Content that no one is dying, Cas crawls back into bed and over to his still sleeping boyfriend. The harsh afternoon light is softened by the sheer curtains on the windows, causing the room to glow in a dreamlike shade of gold.

“Hey, Princess,” Cas whispers as he runs his fingers along the muscles in Dean’s back. The unfazed man sleeps on. 

Cas watches Dean sleep for a moment before he digs out a sketchbook from the stack of books next to the bed. Settling himself at the foot of the bed, he sets pencil to paper, capturing the way the quilt drapes and crumples over the firm roundness of Dean’s ass; up his muscular, naked back… skin so pale in the golden light. Pausing, he studies the marred skin, so many scars. Dean is entirely covered with marks caused by the abuse of others, as well as the self-inflicted signs of his self-hatred and unsettled mind. How could people… no, not people, monsters, only monsters could treat anyone the way Dean has been treated. 

Cas catches his breath, wiping away the threatening tears. He continues the pencil sketch of his boyfriend, his lover, his beautiful princess. It’s a rough, quick sketch. The more he draws, the more he is drawn to the vast amount of bare skin presented before him. He smiles as he notices how Dean’s face is completely smushed into the pillow, ‘ _ How can he even breathe like that? _ ’ 

Looking at his simple, inelegant line drawing, he contemplates leaving it without the proof of the years of torment that appear like a roadmap on Dean’s skin.  Stopping now will leave him with the image of the strong, muscular back of the most wonderful man he has ever met. But that would only be a half-truth and not an authentic representation of Dean.

He takes up his pencil again and sketches in the scars that mark the flesh. Each line is a distinct reminder of Dean’s incredible life, Cas knows how each of the scars on Dean’s body feels under his fingertips. His mind drifts to the obvious cause of some and the few stories Dean has shared for others. The edge of a leather belt leaving long straight lines diagonally from his shoulder to the opposite hip. The knife wound from an attack by a mugger while Dean was living on the streets of Kansas City. Cas takes a shaky breath as he recalls the cause of the dotted nebula on Dean’s shoulder blade and upper spine -cigarette burns, given to him by a foster parent. There are more scars covered by the quilt, trailing down over his buttocks and legs, so many other marks faded by time. All of the marks on Dean’s back were the result of others’ abuse on his body; the scars that Cas can see on Dean’s arm and side are a historical record of Dean’s own self-abuse. Cas concentrates on his sketch and tries to see what he’s doing through blurred vision.  Feeling the bed wiggle, Cas wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, not wanting Dean to wake up and find him crying.

Dean sighs a sleep-heavy breath as he stretches, his hand collides with the headboard, and his leg bumps against Cas’s as he shifts and wakes from his mid-day slumber. 

“Mwhey, Cas,” Dean mumbles and grins, his eyes sparkle in the sunlight.

Cas lays his notebook aside and greets Dean with a smile. “Hey.” Cas leans down and kisses Dean’s cheek. “How about a quick shower, then we can go check out who’s at the party?” Cas suggests as he traces his fingers over the muscles in Dean’s chest. 

Dean stretches and rolls onto his back, enjoying the light caresses. He reaches up and grabs Cas, pulling him down, “What if I don't wanna move from this bed?” 

“You don’t have to, but I know for a fact that they have the grill going out there on the patio,” Cas nips at Dean’s bicep, “and I’m hungry.”

Dean leers at Cas, raising his eyebrows and sliding his hand under the quilt to his own dick.

“For FOOD, you perv,” Cas laughs and shoves at Dean, “You need food, too.”

Cas gets up and heads toward the bathroom. “Come on, Princess, I’ll even wash your hair.”

Dean throws a pillow at Cas, but gets up and trods to the bathroom in spite of his protests.

* * *

 

“Dean, it’s not that cold out. Besides, you’re like a freaking furnace.” Cas complains as Dean grabs a jacket. 

“I just… don’t... I’m fine, Cas.”

Taking the jacket away from Dean, Cas unbuttons Dean’s flannel shirt. “Dean, I’m sure that an undershirt, a long sleeve Henley and an overshirt is more than enough. You’re going to burn up, Baby.”

“Cas, I just don’t want…,” Dean looks away and tugs at the sleeves of his Henley.

“Come here, beautiful.” Cas twines his fingers with Dean’s, pulling him close. His free hand resting on Dean’s cheek. 

“I love you so much.” Cas tilts his head and gives Dean a soft, loving kiss.  “You and I are going out to the patio to get some food and greet a few people. I’m pretty sure I know everyone out there, and they’re harmless. Stupid maybe but harmless.” 

Dean nods. 

“Color?”

“G-green… yellow,” Dean answers, unsure of himself, “I dunno.”

“Explain the yellow, Baby.”

“What if… they’re all like, models and shit, Cas.”

Cas gives a nod to urge Dean to complete his thought.

“What if your friends don’t like me, they could see my scars and…” He covers his face with his sleeve covered hands and shakes his head. “NO, they’re gonna hate me, I’m ugly.” His voice muffled by his hands. 

Cas pulls Dean into his arms, surrounding him with all his love.

“Dean, Baby, if anyone out there reacts even slightly negatively toward you, they will have to deal with me. I gave you my word that I’ll love and protect you. Dean, you mean more to me than all those people put together, plus that big damn house, plus my truck!” Cas kisses Dean on the temple. “I’d make them all go away if they hurt you, every last one of them.”

“Jesus, Cas, I can’t breathe when you say mushy stuff like that.” Dean sits down on the bed, propping his elbows on his knees, hanging his head.

Cas stands in front of him and traces his fingers through Dean’s hair while he waits for Dean to compose himself. 

“What do they know about us - me?” Dean asks as he stares at Cas’s feet. 

“Well, it’s safe to assume that they all know we just had sex.”

“Gezzuss..” 

“Dean, that’s not a big deal to them. Sex is just sex. Them knowing that we fuck is a non-issue. What they don’t know, will never understand, is that when we make love, it’s the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. I’ve never been happier or more blissed than I am when you and I are together.”

Dean stares at Cas. “Nobody’s ever called it that before. I’ve been fucked, screwed, roasted and plenty of other shit’s been done to me since like forever… but, never, in my life, has anybody ever made love to me.” 

Dean slides down to his knees and wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, pressing his face in Cas’s belly as he hugs him.  “I love you, Cas. I love you, and I trust you.”

Cas tugs at Dean to get him to stand. “I love you, too, Dean.” Cas wipes Dean’s cheeks with his thumbs, smiling when Dean’s stomach growls. “I think your stomach is ready, how about the rest of you?”

“Green. You’ll be with me the whole time, right?”

“Of course,”

Cas takes Dean by the hand and leads him out to the patio.

As soon as they step outside, Emmett (who, to Dean’s relief, is now wearing clothes - well, practically painted on gold pants and a fishnet top covered by a faux-fur crop jacket) attacks them in a group hug. 

Dean struggles against the embrace. 

“Emmett, Dean doesn’t like to be touched!” Cas dislodges the fur-clad man.

“He seems to like being touched by you.” Emmett pouts.

“He _ knows _ me. Where’s the food?”

Emmett leads them to the opposite side of the pool where there is a table laden with all kinds of food. Passing through the crowd instead of skirting around them. “Move it! Out of the way! Lady with a baby!” Laughing he turns to face Cas and Dean, “Sorry, I never know when my Inner Rizzo will decide to make an appearance.” Turning back to lead them to the table, he starts belting out the lyrics to the ultimate Grease/Rizzo song, “There are worse things I could doooo… Than go with a boy… or.. two! Even though the neighborhood thinks I’m trashy, and no good, I suppose It could be true…” 

Dean stares in awe as the flamboyant man sings. 

Emmett pets Dean on the cheek, “Beautiful boy, did our Castiel forget to tell you that I’m the HQIC?” 

“Um, HQIC?” Dean looks between Cas and Emmett. 

“Hot Queen In Charge!” Emmet snaps with each word and flicks his wrist as thought he was flipping back long hair. 

Dean smiles and feels his cheeks heat with a blush creeping up his neck. He used to love sneaking in the back door of the gay bars back in Kansas, so he could watch the Drag shows.

Cas notices his response and leans in to whisper, “A drag show just made our to-do list.”

They each load up a plate with food and find a spot to sit and eat. 

The next few hours pass quickly, Cas introduces Dean to several people, although Dean knows he won't remember most of their names. Cas’s stance stays possessive and in control, and Dean likes the feeling he gets from that. 

Dean does his best not to flinch when people reach out to greet him, more often than not with a hug. He tightly grips Cas’s hand and shuts his eyes with each drunken embrace, standing stiff and trying not to make a sound. Dean just stares down at his shoes, trying to stay calm as Cas has fun with his friends. While Cas is talking with one of the many people to whom he was introduced but can’t connect a name, Dean suddenly feels strong arms surround him.  In his surprise, he whimpers. 

“Dude, you’re so pretty! You wanna head up to the house? I know the guy who lives here, he doesn’t mind if we… you know…”

“RED!” Dean screams, pushing at the very large, very strong man. He releases Cas’s hand, so he has both hands to aid his struggle. 

Cas turns and shoves the man off Dean.

“What the fuck?!” Cas yells at the big bear of a man.

“Fuck off little one,” the large man glares at Cas.

Dean’s eyes are like saucers, and his mouth hangs open as he watches the scene unfold before him. Cas grabs the man’s hand and twists his arm behind his back, kicking the back of the man’s knee, forcing him down onto his knees. Perfectly synchronized, fluid movements. 

“Little one?” Cas growls, “Who the FUCK do you think you are?  - GABRIEL! Get your ass over here!” Cas holds the man as he squirms to get away, yelling out in pain as Cas twists his wrist farther.

“Oh, shit,” Gabe runs around the pool.

“Um, Cassie… What’s going on?” Gabe asks cautiously.

Cas jerks upward on the man’s twisted arm. “I’m taking out some trash. Will you please enlighten me as to why this moron is hitting on my boyfriend in my own yard?”

“Gabe? Man, I thought you said this was your place. OWW! Dude!” the large man squeals in pain. 

“I said that I LIVE here, but sorry man, this is Castiel’s place and it looks like you fucked up.” Gabe places a hand on Cas’s shoulder. 

“Hey, Cassie, why don’t you let go of the nice model and let me escort him to his car?… and possibly to the ER.”

“Right after he apologizes to Dean,” Cas demands. 

The large man winces in pain and snarls at Cas.

“Man, he’ll totally break your arm, so you better do as he says,” Gabe informs the bear of a man. 

“Sorry, pretty boy, I didn’t know you were already owned. OW! FUCK!”

“Try, again, motherfucker,” Cas growls.

“Fuck! I’m sorry for making unwanted advances…,” he looks to Cas for help.

“Dean, his name is Dean.”

“Yeah, Dean. I’m sorry Dean, please - Ow Shit! - Please accept my apology.” 

Dean gapes at the man, then at Cas. “Um… y-yea, oookay.” Dean manages to force out without sounding too shaky, or so he hopes. 

Cas shoves the man toward Gabe. “Get him off my property.”

Cheers and chatter erupt from the crowd of partygoers, who had become nearly silent at the sight of Cas manhandling the much larger man. The music thumps and once again the people are dancing and reveling in the event with the newfound topic of Castiel’s badassery. 

Dean stands stiffly, with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, looking at the hoard of people as they laugh and dance and say things to him that he can’t comprehend at the moment. Lifting his hands, he presses his palms against his ears trying to block out the noise. He squeezes his eyes closed to make them all disappear. 

“Too much. Red, red, redredredredredred…” he chants in a whisper, unsure if he’s actually speaking out loud or if it’s all in his head.

Cas touches Dean’s elbow in an attempt to get his attention and help calm him after the altercation.

Dean jerks away in reactive instinct. 

“No! Nononononono… redredredredredred…” Dean presses his hands tighter on his head, and he sways as his voice becomes louder and louder. He starts hitting his palms against his head, “No NO NO NONONONONO!” 

“Dean! Baby, let’s go. Let’s get out of here and find a quiet place.” Cas tries to figure out how to make Dean move without touching him. Dean is resisting Cas’s attempts at every soft touch Cas tries. Cas is afraid Dean will hurt himself if he lets this behavior continue. Unsuccessful in his gentle attempts to get Dean’s attention or to get him to move, Cas knows he only has one choice. Cas grits his teeth and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. As suspected, Dean completely freaks out, flailing and screaming as Cas manages to lift him enough to force him away from the crowd and toward the garage. Even if the garage is a bit farther than the pool house, Cas wants to get him there because it will be much quieter. 

Once they are off the patio and on the back side of the speakers, the music is much quieter, and Dean stops his battle against Cas, slumping into Cas’s grip. Cas holds him for a moment while he catches his breath, and Dean is steady on his own legs. 

Cas lets go of Dean, grabs him by his belt and leads him the rest of the way to the garage. Once inside, Cas opens the tailgate of his truck and helps Dean sit. Dean follows without a fight, moving where Cas directs him. 

“Fuck.” Cas gently holds Dean’s chin and guides Dean to look at him, Dean’s gaze is blank, and his face is red and tear soaked. 

Cas sits next to Dean on the tailgate and wraps one arm around Dean, pulling him close so that Dean can rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. Cas smooths Dean’s hair out of his face and rubs Dean’s back, gently rocking them as he softly sings the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad… Take a sad song and make it better…”


	30. Counselors and Consultants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday rolls around and Dean has his appointment with his counselor, Eleanor. Nothing unusual about his appointment... except that he is still on his mini vacation and maybe the idea of heading back to the Center before Sunday suddenly doesn't sound like such a good plan.

Dean sits in the cab of the truck, arms crossed and a deep frown on his face, refusing to release his seatbelt or make any move toward getting out. He looks straight ahead, not daring to look left - where Cas sits pleading with him to get out and go inside; or right - where Eleanor is tapping on the window, also beckoning him to get out of the truck.

“Dammit Dean, you were fine all morning. You knew we were coming here for your session with Eleanor. Why are you pulling this shit now?”

Teeth clenched, Dean hisses out a barely audible “Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself.” Cas grunts as he lets his head fall back against the rear window.

“Dean?” Eleanor pleads and taps her fingernails against the window.

“It’s not a week, yet. I get a week.” Dean growls and fights the urge to kick and scream like a child. He’s just so angry. Yes, he was fine earlier, before they left the house, and even on the drive over. Yes, he knows the plan. First, his session with Eleanor, then Cas takes him to lunch, then they’re going clothes shopping. But seeing the Center and Eleanor has sent his anxiety through the roof. Everything feels like it’s collapsing in on him, all his trepidation swims to the surface; being left alone, his belongings being taken or stolen, fighting, screaming, hurting, scared; all the ‘what if’s’ burst in his mind like a storm, the buzzing is so loud he thinks maybe Cas can hear it, too. All he can do is tighten his grip on the seatbelt strap and hold on for dear life; he wants to disappear, make it all go away.

“Baby, I’m not leaving you.” Cas sighs.

“Dean, dear, this is just a routine visit. A normal session. We need to sit down and discuss how you’ve been this past week. Then you and Castiel can be on your way. Castiel tells me you’ve had a good week so far. You’ve had several adventures, haven't you?”

“No! He’s just tired of me and wants to get rid of me. Just like everybody always does.” Dean pulls his feet up on the seat and sinks into the corner, hugging his legs and hiding his face. God, he knows it’s not true, but what if – what if…

“Dean… ugh. I keep telling you that I’m not leaving. We’re going on a date after you’re done here. Remember? A real date, out to eat and everything.”

“Ya’ll’re tryn’ to trick me,” Dean mumbles into his knees. Maybe, if he fights long enough Cas will just take him home, they can sit on the couch and listen to music. Maybe he can call Eleanor and talk to her on the phone instead of here at the Center.

“Dammit,” Cas slams his hands against the steering wheel, then wipes them down his face, trying to regain his composure, “You’re  _ really _ testing me today. Do you honestly believe that I’d lie to you and dump you here? … Jesus! Stop treating me like I’m some nobody who isn’t head-over-fucking-heals in love with you. You fucking little shit!” Cas can't hide how much he is hurting, and he yells at Dean. “I fucking love you, you fucking idiot! Now, get out of this goddamned truck and go in there and tell Eleanor how much fucking fun you’ve had this week!”

Cas gets out and slams the driver's door, he throws an aggravated punch at thin air then sinks down to a squatted position. Screaming out a sound that sent chills through Dean, who looked up in time to see Cas drop out of sight.

“Cas!?” Dean yells, he scrambles out of his seatbelt and across the seat to see what happened to Cas, he sees him knelt down on the ground, leaning his back against the door, with his face in his hands. Suddenly, all the “what if’s” don’t matter, Cas is hurt.

“Shit! Cas!” Dean unlocks the passenger; he shoves Eleanor as he pushes the door open and runs around the front of the truck, falling to the ground next to Cas.

“Cas? Cas, I’m sorry. Please, don’t cry. I’m so sorry; I was mad and bein’ stupid… I’m sorry, Cas… Please, look at me… Oh, god, Cas, I’m so sorry I hurt you.” Dean sobs and embraces Cas, rocking them as he nuzzles against Cas’s temple. “I love you; I love you…” He murmurs into Cas’s hair. The whirring in Dean’s mind calms as he holds Cas, ‘ _ So stupid, so stupid _ .’ He pushes all his selfish anger out of sight, Cas needs him to be brave. He can do this for Cas; he has to do this. Cas has given him so much, how can he not give back?  

Cas lets out a shaky breath and drops his hands so that he can return Dean’s embrace.

“I know, Dean. It just really hurts that you still believe that I’d abandon you. God...” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’d give up everything to stay with you.”

Eleanor leans against the hood of the truck, watching the scene before her. “Well, you’ve answered one of my burning questions. I was hoping that this thing between you was more than an infatuation, lust, or just an excuse for Dean to sneak away from the Center.” She smiles at the two men who are still sitting on the ground.

“Dean, can we please go inside and finish this conversation?” She asks.

“Okay,” he nods and stands, helping Cas up as well.

Cas twines their fingers together as they follow Eleanor to her office.

“You knew you’d go in eventually, didn’t you?” Cas side-eyes Dean.

Dean gulps and keeps quiet, not allowing himself to get caught in Cas’s gaze.

“Ugh, you are such a... shit.” Cas grabs Dean’s face and kisses him, closed mouth but hard, with aggravation and love combined into a dizzying storm of emotions. “I still love you; you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Eleanor walks a few paces ahead of them, smiling so big her face may break. Castiel is exactly what Dean needs.

They settle into their preferred seats in her therapy room, as much as Dean wants to sit with Cas, he knows he needs his space in this room.

Eleanor eases them into a conversation by asking leading questions about the visit to the zoo, and it doesn’t take long for Dean to run with that topic. Over the next forty-five minutes, he regales her with stories about elephants, giraffes, and emus. He relates his experience with the twins - “Not creepy twins like in that old scary movie, really cute, nice little kids.” He tells her about Harville’s and how nice Ellen is, he tries to explain how Jay drives food around all day and how Cas can use his smartphone and can order from anywhere and they can get a meal delivered. “Gabe likes to tease Cas, but he ain’t bein’ mean like I thought at first. He cares about Cas, and I think he just teases ‘cuz he’s a short little shit, and he’s jealous ‘cuz Cas is smokin’ hot.”

“Well, that’s good, I’m glad Gabe cares for Castiel, and I’m happy that you've made another friend.” Eleanor is thrilled that so many things have gone well for dean during his visit with Castiel. “Dean, Dear, you’ve mentioned a couple of instances that I’d like to revisit if that’s alright.”

“You mean like when I got panicked at the stupid zoo?”

“Well, yes, and that’s a good example of handling a panic attack well. It appears that you had a was a positive  reaction when you stopped for water and a little food.”

“Yeah, Cas has a magic bag that always has water and protein bars.” He grins and winks at Cas.

“Can we talk a little more about the party at Castiel’s?”

Cas sinks in his seat, he knows he could/should have handled the situation in a more adult way, but that guy just pissed him off. Cas’s thoughts are interrupted by Dean’s voice.

“... then Emmett started singin’ all these goofy show tunes. He’s not just a porn star, he’s a big-time Queen and has done shows in Dallas!”

Cas pours himself and Dean a fresh glass of water each. Dean takes a big drink and grins at Cas.

“I was watchin’ Emmet, and some chick sang a song from… Eastend story or somethin’ like that…” he looks to Cas for help.

“Oh, West Side Story.” Cas inserts.

“Yea, that. Cas was talking to Luke, I think… and this fuckin’ Bear grabbed me and starts tryin’ to drag me off to the big house…”

“Wait, there was a bear at this party?” Eleanor asks, astonished, “Why were there animals at a party? Castiel?”

“No, it’s not like that, he means a Bear as in a large gay man, not a wild animal.” Cas laughs as he explains to the woman. “Although, in this case, there wasn’t much difference…” he grumbles and rolls his eyes.

“Oh my gosh, well, that’s a term I need to add to my list.” She sighs in relief.

“So, this “Bear,” did he hurt you?” She asks Dean.

“He, um, scared me. But he didn’t hurt me. I think I maybe screamed, ‘cuz next thing I knew, Cas had him locked in a hold that had that asshat cryin’.”  Dean looks at Cas, “Did you make him apologize to me? I kinda remember something like that.”

“Yeah, Baby, I made sure he apologized properly for his inappropriate behavior.”

“Thanks, Cas. Um… What happened after that? ‘Cuz I just remember waking up curled up in the bed of your truck in the garage.”

“I, um,  _ helped _ you to the garage because the noise and crowd were too overwhelming for you after the incident with the Bear, plus you were getting tired and… damn, we probably should have left sooner, but you were having fun, and I was enjoying seeing some of my friends.”

Cas looks at Eleanor, “I was acting selfishly, I kept Dean in a loud, crowded party for several hours while I ignored his needs in favor of letting loose and getting stupid with my friends.”

“Castiel, you did nothing wrong. From what you both have told me, Dean was enjoying the company of your friends just as much as you were. The problem arose when this “Bear” crossed a line and invaded Dean’s personal space, making unwanted advances.”

“Oh, I did do wrong, I broke that guy's hand.”

“You protected your loved one. Granted, you might have been able to resolve the situation without the use of force, but it could have been so much worse. From what you’ve said, you felt threatened and used limited force to deter further damage, taking control of the situation and diffusing it as quickly as possible.”

“Wow, put that way it sounds a lot better than me getting possessive and pissed, and wanting to rip that fuckers arm off and beat him with it.” Cas laughs and flashes his big gummy smile at Dean.  “Because nobody gets to touch my boyfriend like that, except me.”

Dean positively swoons, heart eyes and sighs included.

“And on the topic of touch. Dean, How is that going?” Eleanor jumps at the subject variation.

Dean stares wide-eyed at her. “T-Ttouch? Oh, um, yeah...Cas has really figured out just the way to touch and.. um .. yeah….we… It’s different when Cas touches me. It’s like, everything is good and right when we kiss. If I’m scared or upset, I can feel the warmth from his hand on me, and it’s like… like, it brings me back. Did he tell you we had sex? But it wasn’t like servicing some dude or nothin’, no, we made love. That’s even what Cas said, that’s what he called it. I love it when he has his hands on me, or his lips, or just his eyes. I like touching him, too.”

“Well,” She interrupts, “Dean, I wasn’t asking about your sexual encounters with Castiel; unless he hurts you or forces you into an unwanted… predicament, I don’t need to know the details. But, thank you for sharing so openly, and always remember that you can talk to me. You do need to communicate your thoughts and feelings with Castiel as well.” She steals a glance at Castiel; he gives her a small nod, “What I  _ would _ like to know more about is the casual touch of others and non-sexual touch.”

“Oh, fuck no. I don’t like people touchin’ me. It just feels… wrong, dirty, itchy… like sp-p-b-bugs all over my skin. So, no thanks.” Dean shivers and scratches his arm.

“Dean, Baby, stop scratching and take a walk around the room, maybe go look out the window.” Dean does as Cas suggests and goes to look out the large window.

“Castiel, does he typically respond so positively to your suggestions?”

“Hell, no. You saw him in the truck when we arrived. Shit, sometimes he fights tooth-and-nail to get his way, but other times, he’s sweet and gentle and open to all sorts of ideas. He’s hella unpredictable from day to day, moment to moment. That man will go from crying to laughing to spittin’ mad inside ten minutes. God forbid he sees a (Cas mouths the word s p i d e r), even the word will freak him out.” he whispers the last bit.

Eleanor nods in agreement, having experienced Dean and spiders more than once at the Center.

“I would have expected him to have a fear of snakes, due to that story of him ending up with a broken leg after trying to get away from a copperhead. But nope, he held and petted a huge python at the zoo, let that thing crawl across his shoulders and everything. Now that freaked my shit out but good. I don’t want snakes crawling all over me.”

“Y'all do know that I can hear you, right?” Dean sasses as he leans against the window frame. “Are we done? It’s been more than an hour.” He whines, his patience growing thin, and his stomach feels empty.

“Alright, Dean. I think we covered a lot of ground today. Aren’t you glad you decided to stay?” Eleanor smiles at him expectantly.

“No, not really. But okay, sure, it was good to tell you about what me and Cas been doin’ this week.”

“Thank you, Dean. I hope you enjoy the rest of your week. I’ll see you at the family day on Sunday.”

“Don’t remind me.” Dean grumps as he slips on his jacket. “Oh, um, I was gonna ask… So, Cas took me shoppin’ and … well, now I got some like real clothes, ya know, not just sweats… could I… or maybe I’ll just leave them…”

Eleanor smiles, she knows how hard it is for Dean to ask for anything, even if it is just wearing jeans instead of sweats.

“Dean, we can give it a trial to make sure you don’t fall into any of your old habits.”

“Sweet! Cas, you hear that? I get to wear my jeans and the soft Henleys you gave me.” Dean grins and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Good for you, Baby.” Cas finishes pulling on his jacket and cradles Dean’s face in his hands, “Keep up the good work sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

Dean watches out the window as Cas drives them across town. His mind drifts as he thinks about all his experiences this week, good and bad. Somehow even the bad things don’t seem quite so bad with Cas there with him.

“We’re here.” Cas gets Dean’s attention by placing a hand on Dean’s leg.

Dean sucks in a startled breath, not realizing how far he’d let his mind wander.

Once they are both out of the truck, Dean grabs Cas’s hand and stops walking, causing Cas to turn and step closer.

“Cas, I’m sorry for being such a shit today, and like, for all the times I act like a stupid fuck. You’ve done so much for me, and I keep freakin’ out on you.”

Cas brings Dean in for a hug and tenderly kisses him on the neck.

”Baby, I’m a big boy, and I can take a lot of shit. You’re battling so much, this…” he motions between them, “This is a safe place for you, Dean. We’re both learning how to deal with all the emotions that come with being in a relationship.” Cas presses his forehead to Dean’s.

“Hey. Get a room!”

Dean and Cas both jump and look across the parking lot to see who yelled at them.

“Dammit, Gabe. What the hell are you doing here?” Cas breathes out a sigh of relief. Austin may be a progressive city, but there are still plenty of backward-rednecks around. Being openly gay can lead to all sorts of trouble from self-righteous homophobes.

“I came to meet our new consultant.” Gabe snickers as he holds the door open for them all to enter. “I figured the good food at Harvelle's would help keep the conversation easy going.”

“What type of  _ consultant  _ are you hiring now?”  Cas glares at Gabe, “And how much is this going to cost me?”

“Information Technology. We need someone who can keep us up to date with the latest. Well, everything; and improve our online presence. On all sides of our business. And, for the record, you’ve already reviewed and signed off on the agreed fees.”

“Damn,” Cas rolls his eyes, “Had to go all  _ adult  _ on me.” he teases Gabe.

Dean snickers as he follows behind them toward a table. He loves how Cas and Gabe act more like brothers than business partners.

“Hey boys, I’ll bring a pitcher right over. Dr. Pepper or Root Beer, Precious?” Ellen greets them, catering to Dean because she knows he prefers a soft drink.

“DP, thanks, Ellen.” Dean gives her a shy smile. She always makes him think that if he ever had a real mom, he’d want someone like her. Tough as nails but overflowing with kindness and love for those she lucky enough to be included in her inner circle.

“Well, y'all may as well join me since you’re here.” Gabe declares, “Unless you plan on making-out all through dinner… then you can find a booth in the corner.” He teases.

“Shut up, Gabe. It’s been a long, tough day and we’re both tired and hungry.” Cas kisses Dean on the cheek as they take their seats. Dean sits with his back to the door, facing Gabe, and Cas is between them to Dean’s right, leaving the chair to Gabe’s right open for his guest.

Ellen plunks the pitcher of beer in the center of the table and places empty glasses in front of Cas and Gabe; she sits a tall glass of icy Dr. Pepper in front of Dean. Petting Dean on the back of his head as she talks to them.

“There you go, precious boy. You fellas want your usuals?” She looks to each of them for confirmation.

“Um, yeah, but I’m expecting someone to join us. So, can you wait and give them a chance to order before bringing our food?” Gabe confirms and informs her of the fourth who will be joining.

“Sure thing, hun. I’ll keep an eye out for your friend.”

Gabe and Cas chat about the expectations and needs of their internet presence while they wait for the consultant to arrive. Dean sips his soft drink and fiddles with his utensils, stealing glances of Cas looking all business and tough while making some point or other to Gabe.

“Gabriel?” A woman greets Gabe as she stands behind Dean.

“Oh. Yes. Please join us.” Gabe stands to shake hands and offer the empty seat to his right.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long. You did say six o’clock.”

“No, not at all. We were just taking a few minutes to catch up. I’d like to introduce you to the owner of Novak Inc., Castiel Novak. Cassie, Ms. Charlie Bradbury of Moondoor, LLC.”

Cas stands to reach across the table to shake her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ms. Bradbury. May I introduce…”

“No. No, this ain’t real.” Dean stands so fast his chair falls backward, he runs to the men’s room without another word to them.

“I’m sorry, excuse me while I go check on him.” Cas walks quickly to the men’s room as calmly as he is able. Pushing on the door, it doesn’t budge.

“Dean, are you leaning on the door? Can you please let me in?” He pushes the door again, and it opens. Dean is standing, facing the corner next to the paper towel dispenser, mumbling to himself.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“This ain’t real. I’m hallucinatin’ Cas. I don’t wanna be here.”

Cas gently takes Dean’s hands in his own, mostly to ground and comfort but also to keep Dean from hurting himself. Cas noticed the attempts at scratches on Dean’s wrists. (Cas makes sure to help Dean keep his nails short and clean so he can’t do any damage.) Dean doesn’t fight Cas’s attempt to turn him around, but he does keep himself shoved into the corner.

“It… It’s a ghost or demon... I’ve been … I try to be a good boy, Cas. Why is it after me now?”

Cas cradles Dean’s cheek in his hand and combs the hair out of Dean’s eyes.

“Baby, I don’t understand, Dean; what ghost?”

“You… I know you saw it. You talked to it… like real people.”

“Ms. Bradbury? Dean, honey, she's a computer technician, not a ghost or demon.”

“Nnnoo, no, nonono. .. Can’t be…” Dean thrashes his head, refusing to accept Cas’s words. “Charlie’s dead! Plane crashed. No survivors. Fiery death. All gone. Burned up… just like.. just… like…” Dean is close to hyperventilating, shaking and squeezing Cas’s hands so hard it hurts.

Cas jerks one hand free and reaches the sink, wetting his hand and cooling Dean’s face with the cold water.

“You’re okay, Baby. Just breathe. Deep breaths… there you go… take a few deep… in … there… out… that’s it…” Cas soothes Dean until his breathing normally, well, as normal as he can while crying.

Dean drapes himself over Cas’s shoulders, holding on for dear life. Cas rubs his back and hums as Dean slowly recovers.

Gabriel peeks around the bathroom door, “Cassie?”

“Hey, Gabe.”

“Is he gonna be okay? That was, um, do you think he’ll be up for conversation?”

Dean is still wrapped around Cas, though he’s calm and breathing steadily now. He stopped shaking a couple of minutes ago.

“I’m not sure, Gabe. Seeing her was a complete shock. Can we talk about this later?”

Dean clears his throat and releases his grip on Cas, standing to his full height. He wipes his eyes and runs a hand down his face.

“Gabe,” his voice is rough and a little shaky, “I’m fine, now. No, Cas, really.” He reacts to the glare Cas shoots him. “Let me just, wash my face and um, take care of business.” He nods toward a urinal.

“You sure, Dean?” Gabe asks.

“Yeah, Gabe, I know when I gotta piss.”

“I meant…”

“I know what you meant. Yes, I want to talk to Charlie.” He shakes his head as he unzips, “Never thought I’d have the chance again.”

Dean washes his hands and face, he attempts to fix his hair, but it’s so grown out that it pretty well does what it wants. He huffs at his reflection and allows Cas to fuss over him for a minute, straightening his clothes and finger combing his hair out of his eyes.

“Dude, let him be. You ain’t his mother.” Gabe scolds Cas.

Cas rolls his eyes at Gabe and kisses Dean on the cheek. “You can do this, Baby.”

Dean attempts a smile, which comes across more like a grimace, then follows Gabe out the door, Cas trailing behind.

Charlie sees them exit the men’s room and stands, watching every move Dean makes. Like watching a movie in slow motion. Dean’s eyes downcast as he exits the restroom, his hair falling forward and mostly hiding his face; he appears to be watching Gabriel’s feet for guidance. Just as Dean reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes, Gabriel dodges a waitress, and Dean looks up. His eyes meet Charlies. Her heart skips a beat. “Dean,” she whispers.

“Whoa!” Gabriel barks out in surprise as he almost runs into a waitress.

Dean jerks and looks up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He glances at Gabe, but all he sees is Charlie. She is so much closer than he expected. She looks just the same, maybe a little older, but her bright red hair catches the light and is just as beautiful as ever, her face is like a porcelain doll with sparkling green eyes.

“Dean?” she half laughs half cries.

He pauses and holds his hands out to his sides in an invitation, just like he always did when they greeted each other as kids.  Charlie runs the last few steps between them, wrapping her arms around him, full octopus mode, her hands grip his shirt, and she buries her face in his chest. Dean can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying, or both. In fact, he isn’t sure about himself either.  As soon as Dean is convinced he can breathe without sobbing, he lifts Charlie off the ground and spins her around. They both fall into emotional fits of laughter. Dean sets her down and grabs her cheeks, kissing her on the forehead.

“Charlie,” he whispers, “it’s really you. You’re really you, and you’re here.”

Dean can’t make himself let go of her hand as they move from their original table to a booth that’s not out in the center of the restaurant. Ellen insisted that they needed a bit more privacy for their reunion. Cas sits on the same side as Gabe so that Dean and Charlie can sit together. Dean lets Charlie slide in first. Grabbing her hand as soon as he sits, he reaches across the table and takes Cas’s hand, putting it together with Charlie’s.

“Cas, this is Charlie. My Charlie, my best friend.” He takes a shaky breath, “Charlie, this is Cas, Castiel. My bo… my person, my everything.”


	31. Bobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer before Dean's senior year and Charlie left for college, they had a fight and Dean ran away.  
> That was a pivotal summer for Dean.  
> (Circles back to Ch 14 when Dean ran away from the Ranch.)

“Wake up, Cher. They’re comin’ home.”

Charlie opened her eyes and looked up into the smiling face of the large Cajun man.

“He found him?” She asked as she sat up, stretching. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, the last thing she remembered was sitting on the couch with Benny. She had been crying and blaming herself for Dean running away. Benny, the soft-hearted giant, had sat with her, allowing her to rest against him as he combed his thick fingers through her long, fine red hair. He was singing an old lullaby that he professed was one his grandmama sang to him.

“Yes, girl-child, he found the boy. He’s a might banged up and terrible scared, but he’s comin’ home.”

“Oh, Benny!” She hugged the man and jumped off the couch. She ran out the front door; the old wooden screen door slammed behind her. She ran all the way down the long drive to the main gate. There was no way she could sit still and wait for them to get home. She climbed up on the gate post and watched the road. Less than ten minutes later she saw headlights way down the old country road. She stood, balanced on the thick wooden post, and strained to see passed the lights to confirm beyond any doubt that it was Bobby’s truck. The truck slowed as it neared the drive and Charlie squealed as she leapt from her perch. She jumped on the running board and knocked on the passenger side window, smiling and waving at Dean.

Dean did not look up. Charlie watched as Bobby spoke to him and Dean unlocked the door and slid over on the bench seat, making room for Charlie to sit.  She climbed in and wrapped herself around Dean.

“Oh my God, Dean. I’m so sorry I yelled at you, I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Dean remained quiet.

“As soon as you left, I started looking all over the main yard for you. The barn, the corral, the treehouse… Bobby said to give you time to get over your mad, but I was scared. Dean, I was so scared that you wouldn’t come back this time.”

Dean said nothing.

Bobby parked in front of the house.

“Go get cleaned up, Son,” Bobby said softly.

Dean nodded and trod up the to the porch and into the house.

Charlie grabbed Bobby’s arm, “Is… is he going to be alright?”

“I don’t know, baby-girl, I sure hope so, but, “ Bobby cut himself off, he shook his head and adjusted his ratty old ball cap. He patted her on the shoulder and climbed the porch steps, disappearing into the house.

Charlie stood still and watched the man enter the house. ‘ _What the hell?’_

Dean had been mad at her before; they fought like siblings. He’d even storm off in a huff claiming he never wanted to see her face again. Heck, she’d done the same to him, more than once. But they always, always apologized, they were always good once their tempers subsided. Their friendship was more than the typical school friend; they had a special bond. She felt like Dean loved her every bit as much as she loved him. She quietly went inside and sat in one of the old recliners. She wasn’t going to let Dean Winchester throw away their friendship over a stupid argument. Charlie listened as Benny busied himself in the kitchen, apparently making a snack. The time was of no concern to that man - Benny was a firm believer in “feeding the soul.” He always claimed that good food made with love helped in the fight against the “demons who are out to bring harm to little chillin.” Even though she never believed any of the crazy stories, Charlie always loved listening to Benny tell his tales. He had all sorts of tails from the “old ones” back in the swamplands of Louisiana. The big old Cajun got a special thrill out of spooking the little kids with his colorful stories.

Charlie heard the shower cut off and moments later the bathroom door opened. She wasn’t the only one who was listening.

“Dean, come on to the kitchen and sit down, boy-o.” She heard Benny call. She went to the hall and watched as Dean grumbled and stomped down the stairs, passing her without even looking and sat at the large dining table. She followed and sat across from him.

Benny placed a plate with a sandwich (turkey and cheese, cut diagonally) and fruit slices, and a glass of his sweet sun-tea in front of each of them.

“First, fill your bellies, then you can discuss what pains ya.” Benny stood at the head of the table eyeing both the teens.

Dean stared at his plate and Charlie shifted her eyes between Dean and Benny.

“That food ain’t gonna jump in your mouth. I’ll be takin’ my leave once you be fillin’ your face.”

Charlie gave him a small smile and took a bite of her sandwich. She had learned that Benny was worse than a house full of Aunties and Grandmas when it came to people eating, or not eating his food.

Dean huffed out loudly and shoved an apple slice in his mouth, staring daggers at the man.

“Eat e-ver-ry bite. I’ll know if y'all don’t.” He pointed a finger at each of them and turned to leave. They listened as he retreated down the hall and shut his bedroom door.

Dean frowned at his plate.

“Just eat so he doesn’t throw a hissy fit,” Charlie pleaded.

They ate in silence. The old grandfather clock in the hall chimed, two o’clock.

Charlie finished her sandwich and looked up at Dean, who was destroying the remnants of the food on his plate. She watched as he picked the bread apart.

“Dean?” Her voice just above a whisper but it felt extremely loud when she finally broke the silence.

He just wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Were you really gonna leave for good?”

He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on his palm, he nodded, unable to look at her.

“But, you have a home here. You have Bobby and Benny and the other boys.”

Dean covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head.

Charlie got up and rounded the table to sit next to Dean. He turned in his seat to face away from her, so she placed her hand on his forearm.  

“Bobby loves you, Dean.”

Dean squirmed out of her grasp and stood to lean against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his shoes.

“H-he gets paid to house kids.” Dean managed to murmur, just loud enough for Charlie to hear. She gasped at his words. Dean refused to let himself cry; he stared at the floor until his eyes were dry and stung, only then did he blink. “But, the government stops payin’ when I turn 18. I… I need, I need to be on my own by then.”

“Dean, that’s crazy talk. Bobby won’t kick you out just because you turn 18.”

Dean gripped the back of the chair next to Charlie, looking down at the empty seat, trying to steady himself, fighting the urge to crumble and wrap his arms around his best friend - fighting the urge to run to Bobby and plead for a job and a home. He had seen the truth too many times. He would be better off on his own.

“You don't know anything, Charlie! CPS has been comin’ around more and more. All them suits been wanderin’ all over the Ranch, havin’ meetin’s in Bobby’s office - with the door closed.”

“If they meet behind closed doors, how do you know it’s bad news?”

“Duh, it ain’t like it’s soundproof.”

“Dean, have you been eavesdropping on Bobby and the CPS?”

“Of course!” Dean shoved the chair and paced the kitchen; he chewed on the cuticles around his fingernails. ‘ _I have to know what they might say about me. I have to be prepared._ ’

Dean steps back to face Charlie, “The CPS wants control of the Ranch, Charlie. Ain't no good gonna come outta them turnin’ this place into a fuckin’ state facility.”

“Sooo, is Bobby on board with that?”

“Well, so far he’s told them “No,” but fuck if they don’t always get their way.”

“Dean, you should stay and help Bobby fight for this place! You could stay on and work the farm. You can…”

“Charlie! I can’t…” He cut her off.

“Dean,” she raised a hand to stop him before he could continue with that thought, “you’re so smart. You know things that can help Bobby keep this place just the way it is. Like, like your ideas with the honey bees and adding the flowers in the garden, or how you built that cool watering system for the chickens.  You can…”

“No! Charlie, I can’t! Everything I touch gets ruined! Or dies. … or leaves…” His anger faded by the end of his rant. He collapsed in a chair and propped his elbows on the table, dropping his face into his hands.

Charlie stood beside him, leaning down to drape an arm around his neck, and rested her head on his.

“Dean, will you stay if I promise to come home every holiday and school break? That would mean that I’ll only be gone for a little over three months before Thanksgiving. Then next thing you know it will be Christmas break.”

Dean sagged to rest his forehead on the table. “I was so excited about our senior year together… I don’t know if I can face it without my bestie there with me. You know how I get at school...”

“Dean,” Charlie sounded tired of the same old argument.

“Sorry, I know. We’ve been over this a _hundred times_. You swear that you’ll come home?”

Charlie stood up straight, her hand over her heart.

“I swear to all the gods, old and new - to the sacred treehouse of Moondoor - and to the holiest of the Jedi, that I, Charlie Bradbury, will visit my fairest handmaiden, Dean Winchester, upon all holidays and school breaks, as long as I’m away at college.”

She leaned down and kissed the top of Dean’s head. “After graduation, we’ll have to work out a new plan.” She smiled at him.

He stood and hugged her tight. “Text me. Like a lot. Like all the fuckin’ time.”

“You better believe it! And you better keep from breaking your stupid phone again.”

Dean chuckled, remembering how the lady at WalMart looked when he tried to explain how a horse had broken his phone. Then how she freaked when he dropped his pants to show her the bruise on his thigh in the perfect shape of a hoof plus his Motorola.

“So, are we okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, we’re good.” He kissed her on her forehead.

They went into the living room and settled on the couch, each using an armrest for a pillow and covering up together with an afghan, their legs tangled together.

“You’re getting too tall, Winchester. You’re taking up more than your share of the couch.”

Dean smiled and tickled her foot. “You’re just jealous ‘cuz I’m finally taller than you, and I ain’t got no plans to stop ‘til I’m over six feet.”

“Like you have any say in how tall you get. I’m gonna laugh when you stop growing at 5’ 11”.” Charlie laughed and poked his belly with her toes.

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Love you, Dean.”

“You too, Charlie.”

* * *

 

Dean had stood with Charlie’s family and watched her board the plane. Her first flight. She had a connecting flight in Atlanta that would take her the rest of the way to Boston. All the way from Austin to MIT. He still couldn’t believe she was really leaving for college a whole year early. He had promised her that he would do his best and try to behave at school; but he would tell her anything to make her smile. Besides, he really couldn’t wait until Thanksgiving holiday so he could see her again. School was no big deal, he could fly under the radar and do what needed to be done to graduate. Dean was more nervous about the flight than Charlie. He’d never been on a plane before, but the whole idea of flying scared him to death. She was excited and bounced all over the place, right up until she had to go through security. They both had forced smiles as she turned back to wave from the other side of the barricade.

Several of the boys were in the living room, reading, playing board games or cards, while Bobby watched the nightly news. Dean kept checking his phone for a text from Charlie and commenting on the sorry hands of cards Alfie had.

“... And in other news… Over 260 people lost their lives when Airbus A321 crashed shortly after take off. The plane went down near Powell River, approximately four miles south of the Virginia/Tennessee border and forty miles North/Northeast of Knoxville, Tennessee. Rescue units were dispatched from Tennessee and Virginia. Reports indicate that there was a complete electrical failure causing an unexpected and dramatic loss of altitude.     The plane uncontrollably plummeted from the sky. Bodies have been recovered at the site and in the forest surrounding the area.  From all accounts, there were no survivors. For more information about Delta flight 2562, please visit our website at…”

Dean stood from the couch, drawn to the news story. He stared blankly at the TV, dropping his phone to the floor between his feet.

“B - B - “ Unable to form words, he felt light-headed, and his breath hitched.

“Dean, Son! Shit. You boys clear out, and somebody find Benny!”

Bobby rushed to Dean just as the boy’s eyes rolled back in his head, catching him just before he hit the floor.

* * *

 

Days passed and Dean didn’t speak to anyone. He completed his assigned chores, ate with the others and laid in his bed all night. He tried to sleep, dozing for a few minutes or a couple of hours at a time, but his nightmares were so intense that closing his eyes didn’t seem like an option. Benny kept scolding him for drinking all the coffee. But Dean had to stay awake, to prevent the dreams from coming.

It was not just images of the plane crash, although he had a seemingly endless loop of that news footage playing in his mind. The worst dreams - nightmares - were the smoke, the eyes looking down on him, that horrible nasally voice barking orders. When he slept he could feel the leather straps tighten around his wrists and ankles, the lashes stinging his bare skin, the darkness from being blindfolded. Sometimes the voices were different, but always ugly, lascivious, lecherous, carnal. Most of the time it was the same disturbing tone, but sometimes the voice barking orders and oozing obscene admonitions came with an unrecognizable accent.

Dean often woke sweaty, his throat rough - damn, he most likely screamed in his sleep - not able to wash away the smell of brandy or whiskey in his nose (or was it just in his mind?), and his skin tingled and itched even after a hard scrub in the shower. Mornings became his least favorite time due to the churning in his gut. The pot and liquor he could get his hands on helped for a while, but nothing helped for long. It wasn’t easy to slip away long enough to steal booze or drugs from the migrants and other workers who lived on Ranch property.

The only thing that helped ease his mind was the feel of the razor against his skin. That was something he had mastered. He knew how to secret away a sharp blade, having made a slit in the leather of his belt where no one ever checked. He knew how to exert the perfect pressure to make the perfect cut. Three, three fresh red lines made the nightmares quiet for at least a few hours of sleep. It didn’t seem like too high of a price, better than getting busted with a joint. He could always blame a little blood on getting caught by barbed wire or any number of things out on the farm.

* * *

 

“Dean, I need you to ride into town with me to pick up school supplies for the boys,” Bobby called to into the barn where Dean was fighting to coil a length of tangled rope.

“Take somebody else!”

“Boy, if I wanted to take somebody else, I wouldn’t be telling you to get your butt in the truck.”

“Yeah, well, I’m busy - cleanin’ up _your_ barn!”

Bobby grumbled and tossed the school supplies lists, one for each of the grades for his boys, into the cab of the truck. He took a few (almost) calming breaths and stomped into the barn.

Dean was cursing the twisted rope, the animal droppings, the heat, and basically everything about farm life, and life in general.

“Son, put that down and go wash your face and hands,” Bobby instructed calmly.

Dean stilled, tightly gripping the rope and hearing it creak in his grasp. Clenching his teeth, he threw it, causing it to hit the wall and invariably become even more tangled. He stormed passed Bobby, glaring at him, eye to eye, now that he was nearly the same height.

Dean didn’t say a word as he rode to town with Bobby. Just as they reached the edge of town and headed toward WalMart, Bobby spoke up. “Son, I know you’re going through a tough time, after, well after the plane crash and all…”

“Fuck you! You don't know shit!”

“Dean! You need to check that anger, boy. I do know ‘shit.’ I know you've been getting into fights, you’re not sleeping, not eating enough, I know you’ve been sneaking over to the migrant housing and stealing liquor.”

Dean’s mouth hung open as he stared at Bobby. He turned to look out the passenger window.

“Yeah, well…” Dean had no idea what to say, it was all true.

“That’s all you got -  “ _Yeah, Well_?” Son, I’m worried for you.” Bobby parked in the huge WalMart parking lot and reached over to lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean jerked away and climbed out of the truck.

“Yeah, well - Stop! Stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself!” Dean stomped off toward the store entrance, Bobby followed, watching the boy’s every move, trying to figure out how to help him.

The shopping trip was a test of Bobby’s patience, as was the drive back to the Ranch.

“Alphie, go help Bobby divvy up the school supplies.” Dean barked at the younger boy as he climbed out of the truck and barreled toward the house.

“That’s supposed to be your job.” Alphie stood on the porch so he could be taller than Dean. Dean took the final step up and loomed over the smaller boy.

“Get! Or else!” Dean threatened.

Alphie ran down the stairs toward the truck to help Bobby.

* * *

 

Sheriff Mills knocked on the front door of the Ranch house. Benny answered with a sigh of relief as the Sheriff guided Dean into the house.

“Found him down 164, off 290, around Highpoint. He was just about to climb into a semi when I flashed my lights. Luckily, the driver didn’t want any trouble with the law and stood down quietly. This one, however,” she sat Dean on the couch, “tried to bolt. I had to chase his skinny butt across the elementary school playground. Scared a few kids in the process. I hate to admit that if he hadn’t gotten tangled up in a fence, I might not have caught him. This kid’s fast!”

“Thank you, Jody. Have a seat; I’ll get you some iced tea. Bobby will be here in a few minutes. I texted him when I saw you pull up.”

“I appreciate that, Benny.” The Sheriff sat on the opposite end of the couch from Dean.

“Too scared to take the cuffs off?” Dean taunted the Sheriff. She ignored him.

“Afternoon, Sheriff.” Bobby greeted as he entered the living room. “Thanks for bringin’ the boy back here.”

“Bobby this is the third time in as many weeks. Maybe we need to look at other options?”

“You fuckin’ put me in a cell and I’ll - I’ll kill myself!” Dean yelled as he abruptly stood from the couch.

“Sit down, boy. You ain’t goin’ to jail.” Bobby commands.

“We have to do something, Bobby. He’s going to wind up in real trouble if he keeps running away like this. He was getting into a semi this time. Now, I know he lost a friend back in that plane crash, but Bobby, his behavior is getting worse - not better, as time goes by.”

Dean sat down with a huff and put his foot up on the coffee table, earning him a harsh look from Bobby. Dean squinted a sassy dare back at the man but didn’t move his foot. The Sheriff smacked his foot off the table.

“Have you lost all your manners along with your good sense? I sure miss that sweet boy who worked hard to get good grades and helped out around the farm. I’m sure your chickens miss you, too.”

“Yea, well, chickens ain’t nothin’ but food, besides, this stupid farm did just fine without me before and it will once I’m gone. I ain’t needed here anyway.”

“Dean!” Bobby and Jody both call him out, one with sadness and the other in warning.

* * *

 

For the next few weeks Dean did his chores without complaining. He attended school, helped the younger boys with their homework, and he didn’t sneak out or fight. From the looks of things, Dean was back to his old self and seemed to have his head on straight. Bobby was thrilled to have Dean back on track. Life at the Ranch was much more pleasant when he wasn’t battling to keep the kids in check, and Dean’s recent attitude had been contagious, causing other boys to act out. With Dean behaving, the other boys also calmed down, and the atmosphere was no longer tense and angry all the time.

Dean had even made a new friend at school, another senior boy named Jared. Dean talked about Jared all the time, a couple of the other boys knew this Jared kid and agreed that the basketball star was a good guy. Bobby was hesitant, but allowed Dean to sleep over a couple of times; Dean validated the request with the explanation that the boys would spend time working on a class project. Bobby hoped that making a new friend would help keep the boy settled and focused on his school work, and keep his mind off fighting and arguing all the time. It did seem to be working, Dean had stopped sneaking around and getting drunk, which was a big plus in Bobby’s book. Dean was smiling and talkative, and pleasant to be around once again.

“Bobby, I know it’s only Thursday, but could I stay over at Jared’s starting tonight instead of tomorrow night? We have a lot to do to finish that project before Monday.” Dean asked at breakfast.

“What about your chores?”

“I asked Joe if he could do them, I promise to make it up next weekend.” Dean smiled pleasantly.

“Joe, did you agree to take Dean’s chores? Or did he bully you into it?” Bobby asked, still a little untrusting of Dean.

“Yes, sir. Dean’s been real helpful with the horses this week and I told him that if he swore to make it up by doing some extra work again next week, I wouldn’t mind tending the chicks and helping in the garden this weekend.” Joe confirmed Dean’s statement. He and Dean had been through a rough patch with fighting and both had ended up bloody on more than one occasion. Joe was taller but Dean was stockier and angrier. For a couple of weeks, it seemed that Bobby was going to have to go to extreme measures to separate the boys and was just about to move Joe to the migrant workers lodging if the fighting didn’t stop. But kids being kids, one day Bobby looked outside and they were both under the hood of one of the tractors, twenty minutes later they had the old thing running again. Bobby wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he let them be, but watched them closely.

“Well, as long as you boys have worked it out, I don’t have a problem with it. Dean, be sure to use your best manners and be on your best behavior.”

“Thanks, Bobby!” Dean smiled and finished his milk before running upstairs to gather his backpack.

* * *

 

Bobby sat in the office of the Sheriff, waiting for her to complete a phone call with the CSP.

“Bobby, I did warn you that that boy was itching for trouble.” Jody tsked and shook her head, “I know you tried, we all tried. I’ve had my deputies working hand in hand with CPS for the past week. There’s an Amber Alert out with Dean’s details. But Bobby, that boy’s street smart and determined.”

“So, you’re just going to give up on him?!” Bobby bellowed.

“No! I’m never going to give up on that kid, just like I know you’ll never give up on him. But I want you to be prepared for him not returning to you. He’s almost 18 and CPS won’t be able to do much for him after that. He’s going to be treated as an adult if he does find trouble with the law, and you know there’s a fair chance of that.” Bobby nodded, not wanting to admit that Dean was most likely out of his reach now.

* * *

 

“Benny!” Joe ran into the kitchen, “Come quick! It’s Bobby!”

\-- --- ---

Benny and the boys waited in the hall outside Bobby’s hospital room. The doctor came out of the man’s room with a grim look.

“Mr. Lafitte?” He stood in front of the seated man. Benny stood and acknowledged the doctor. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Mr. Singer has suffered SCA, sudden cardiac arrest or in layman's terms, a massive heart attack. We will need to keep him under observation for the next few days. He is in critical condition at this time, and we are working around the clock to make sure he survives. He is being treated with antiarrhythmic medicines, and if he survives the next forty-eight hours, we plan to insert an implantable cardioverter defibrillator which would assist his heart to beat correctly. I will make sure that the nurse keeps you informed on his condition.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Benny collapsed back into his seat. He wasn’t ready to lose Bobby. They’d been friends for over twenty years.

* * *

 

Bobby’s funeral was on a dreary Saturday afternoon. All the boys from the Ranch and many who had already aged out and moved on to lead their own adult lives attended, many brought their wives and children. There were people from CPS and the court system, the police, and the local Rancher’s Association. The chapel was overflowing with people whose lives had been touched by Bobby Singer. People shared stories of how the day they met Bobby Singer was a day that changed their lives Many shared how knowing the man had saved them from a life in prison, or worse.  Everyone in attendance had a story to share, with laughter and tears and memories of those who couldn’t be there.

* * *

 

Dean watched a man toss his newspaper into a trash bin. Newspapers made great insulation to help ward off the colder weather and to line the soles of shoes when they got thin. He grabbed the paper and folded it smoothly for storage in his hideaway.

He headed out to find shelter before the rain started. There were a few places that he could hide and sleep at night. Living on the street wasn’t all bad - well mostly bad - but not all bad. No one told him what to do or not to do. If he didn’t want to face people, then he just curled up in a hole for the day. He could take what he wanted - well steal it. He was sneaky and could talk his way out of just about anything.

Nobody needed to bathe every single day anyway, but there were several shelters and churches that loved to pat him on the head and feel sorry for the poor little lost boy. Having a pretty face was helpful most of the time. He looked innocent enough, was underweight, and could play up the sad puppy eyes to get the old church ladies to feed him or let him use the facilities in the church, as long as he didn’t go to the same places too often, or get caught filling his pockets with anything that he could sell or trade.

Sometimes though, that pretty face got him in trouble. The local hookers hated him - they threatened him and sent big burly men to beat the shit out of him if they caught him hustling in their area. Those days were shit because he had to trade or sell more than usual to get something strong enough to make him black out so he could hide from the pain. It’s not that he liked K or heroin or any of the other random shit he could get for cheap, but they they made the pain, and the voices, and the monsters go away.  

* * *

 

The kid that washed dishes at the bar on the corner of 3rd and Red River sometimes had some leftovers for Dean, so he walked down the alley by Waller Creek before heading down to the park to use the facilities. The food at the Moonshine Grill was awesome, even if he did get half eaten, cold food. It was better than digging it out of the bins in the back. Dean was thrilled that the kid came through with two to-go boxes of food. He didn’t even care what was in them; this was enough to last him a couple of days if the rats or pigeons didn’t get to it first. He tied off the plastic bag of food and took off across the road toward the park.

He adjusted his backpack as he left the toilet and looked over the newspaper page facing out, noticing that the paper was open to the obituaries. Yuck, old people were gross. Who liked reading about dead people? Glancing down the page, he saw a photo that made him stop in his tracks.

“Bobby?”


	32. Don’t ask stupid questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas loses it when Dean traces his fingers up to his armpits, giving in to the joy of the moment, once he lets go, everything seems to tickle, every touch sends vibrations all over his body. “Uncle! UNCLE!” Cas cries, trying to catch his breath.  
> Dean stops his tickle attack and flops back on the bed. They both lay there breathing hard.  
> “You hungry, yet?” Cas asks.  
> “Don’t ask stupid questions,” Dean replies. Cas bursts out laughing again.

It’s still dark out, and the birds are just beginning to sing their early morning songs, but Dean is sitting up in bed, wide awake. He barely slept even after Cas broke down and gave him an Ambien, which usually helps ease his mind enough to get some rest. The medication only worked for about four hours; then Dean was awake again.

He didn’t want to wake Cas, so he carefully got up to take care of his bathroom business then he sat on the couch in the studio to read for a while.  Sitting alone in the early morning, with only a small lamp barely lighting the room, Dean allows his mind to wander to thoughts of Charlie. He still can’t believe that she is alive and in back in Austin, and working for Cas (well, working for Gabe, but that’s the same thing). They had a wonderful visit, even if it meant that his date with Cas was completely hijacked. Cas and Gabe had wandered off to sit at the bar for a while so he and Charlie could have some time to enjoy each other, reliving memories without the need to explain to outsiders. They laughed, cried, talked, and hugged throughout the evening. Talking about Bobby was difficult, for both of them. It turns out that the Ranch did end up under the control of the State Child Protective Services, but Victor Henriksen left his position with CPS and is now co-director with Benny, who is still the head cook.

The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, and Dean decides to go back to bed because he misses Cas. Leaning against the headboard, he watches Cas sleep.

‘ _So beautiful_ ,’ he’s tempted to run his fingers along Cas’s back, loving how the muscles of his broad shoulders flow so smoothly down to his narrow waist, and he adores those dimples just above the rise of his perfect ass.  Dean rubs his palms on his own thighs to keep himself from touching Cas. Closing his eyes, he lets his head fall back against the headboard and tries to relax.

Cas stirs, only enough to reach out towards Dean’s side of the bed. He hums in his sleep when his hand hits the cold sheets, just past Dean’s toes. Dean unfolds from his seated position and slips under Cas’s arm, Cas immediately pulls him closer, letting out a contented sigh. Now Dean is face to face with Cas, and he wants, needs to touch him.

Dean reaches up and traces a finger along the side of Cas’s sleep softened face, behind his ear and down his neck. Giving in to his desires, he allows his hand to run down along Cas’s back to his ass. ‘ _God he’s so perfect, his skin is flawless. How can this be real? Why does someone so amazing want to be with me?_ ’ He leans in and kisses Cas on the shoulder. Keeping his touches as light as feathers, Dean trails kisses along Cas’s down Cas’s neck and across his collarbone, carefully working his way down, mapping out the muscles toward his awaiting treasure.

Cas stirs and hums in his sleep when Dean frees Cas’s flaccid cock and warms it in his mouth. All of his worries and anxiety fade away as he worships Cas’s body. ‘ _Even soft this is a beautiful cock_ .’  He inhales Cas’s natural scent as he flicks his tongue over Cas’s balls and back up to his, no longer flaccid dick. Taking it into his mouth, he sucks, gently tugging as he feels his prize begin to stiffen. ‘ _There you go Cas; now we’re getting somewhere_.’

Quickly and quietly, Dean wets two of his own fingers and begins to finger himself while he swallows Cas’s stiffening cock. He wants to be, at least mostly, ready and open when Cas wakes up. Cas may be a sound sleeper, but Dean knows that even Cas won’t sleep through a blowjob. And Dean wants more than just to blow Cas now; he’s wide awake and horny for Cas’s cock. Dean twists his fingers and scissors himself open, moaning at the slight burn. Cas’s cock twitches with the vibration of Dean’s low moan.

Suddenly, Dean feels Cas’s hand gripping his hair.

“Holy fuck, Dean,” Cas groans, his voice deep and rough from sleep, “You’re awake early - oh God..” Cas pulls Dean’s hair when Dean swirls his tongue and dips the tip into the slit rubbing and thrusting a couple of times before taking him in entirely to the base and swallowing around the head.

“Fuuuuuuuuukkk... “ Cas growls.

Dean pops off Cas’s cock and crawls up, dragging his hard length along Cas’s leg until their hips meet, he grinds down and leans his face in toward Cas’s.

“Mornin’ Beautiful,” he grins and kisses Cas in a way that he hopes conveys how much he loves him, wholly and absolutely, without end. Cas returns the kiss with equal passion.

Dean takes Cas’s hand and moves it to his ass, gliding their fingers to his hole.

“Two fingers, already…” he whispers.

Cas sucks in a breath and circles his fingers around the edge of the muscle.

“Lube?”

Dean leans over and stretches to reach the drawer.

“Oh, God…ah, Jesus!” Cas groans as Dean’s movements increases the pressure and slides their cocks together, hipbones digging into each other.

“Fuck,” Dean growls at the same time, reeling in the pleasure which is just shy of pain. Dean grabs the lube and gives his hips a solid thrust, smirking at Cas. Cas slaps his bare ass and nips at his bicep.

“Gimme that.” Cas playfully snatches the bottle out of Dean’s hand, causing Dean to bark out a laugh, smiling with all the joy of a man in love.

Staring into Cas’s eyes, Dean’s smile falls away, and he presses a kiss onto Cas’s still smiling lips. “Make love to me, Cas?”

Cas combs Dean’s hair out of his eyes, “Of course, Dean.” With that, Cas helps Dean roll off him and get into a comfortable position. Cas caresses Dean with tender touches the whole time.

“God, Babe, you really did get yourself ready,” Cas can begin with two fingers and quickly add a third.

“I wanted to be ready for you.” Dean sucks in a sharp breath as Cas pumps his fingers, giving a twist as he teases Dean’s perineum with his thumb.

“Are you” Ready for me?”

Dean pushes against Cas’s fingers and groans, “Sooo ready. I need you, Cas.”

Cas coats his cock with lube and presses against Dean’s hole, feeling it flutter as if Dean were trying to pull Cas into himself.

“I love you, Dean.” He whispers as he leans down to capture Dean’s lips, his tongue penetrating Dean’s mouth just as his cock pushes passed the rim of muscle.

Dean sucks Cas’s tongue as Cas slowly bottoms out inside him. Dean squeezes Cas’s ass before he brings his knees up, widening the v and giving Cas room to move; they both groan out a pleased sound at the shift in position.

Raising up on his arms so that they can both catch their breath, Cas smiles down at Dean, who is chasing after him with eyes closed.

Dean slowly opens his eyes, “I love you, too, Cas.”

Cas begins a gentle rhythm as he mouths every inch of Dean that he can reach, he nuzzles under Dean’s arm which makes him snicker.

“I adore that you’re ticklish.” Cas grins as he licks Dean’s nipple.

“I don’t; it gives you an unfair advantage.” Dean tries to pout but ends up arching into Cas’s ministrations.

Cas winks and thrusts deep into Dean, “Maybe… you just haven’t…. tried… HARD… enough,” he emphasizes each word with a good hard thrust, “God, you feel so gooood...”

Dean wraps his legs around Cas, “m-moore… Cas… mmhhwuu…”

Unable to refuse Dean’s pleas, Cas increases his speed and pressure, fucking into Dean like a man on a mission.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean brings his knees closer to his chest and digs his fingers into Cas’s shoulder blades, “Ngh, Cas… aaah!” he shouts when Cas hits his prostate perfectly. Cas grunts and aims for that spot, again, and again.

Dean loses his ability to form words when Cas grips his cock with his still partially lube-slick hand; he cries out when Cas pumps his leaking cock in time with his thrusts. His mind goes blank, and he feels like he’s floating. His body is rocking in time with Cas’s movements. He’s not afraid; he’s calm and happy. He wants to stay here in this perfect, warm, sensual place forever. He knows he’s safe in Cas’s arms.

:..e… n… th me… Ba…” Dean hears Cas’s voice but he’s not ready to come down yet, he nods his head (or hopes he does).

Cas stills, “Dean, you with me? Baby?” He places a hand on Dean’s face, wrapping his thumb under his chin, he gently shakes Dean’s head. Dean is completely lax. “Dean, Baby, Don’t leave me.”

Dean’s eyes flicker, barely opening, he tries to focus on Cas, but his lids are too heavy. “Grnnn… dreeeen…” he gives a weak eyebrow wiggle and a half smile, it's all he can manage. In an attempt to touch Cas, his hand flops to the sheets. He giggles and furrows his brow, “cum, big maaaan… fill meee pup…” He slurs and launches his arm off the bed hitting Cas’s side then letting it fall again.

Cas laughs and begins his rhythm again, hard and aiming for Dean’s sweet spot. “I’ve never seen anyone get so high off sex. That must be some awesome headspace you visit.” Cas grunts out as he pounds into Dean.

Soon, Dean’s whole body shudders and his legs lock around Cas’s waist, as he shoots his load all over his and Cas’s bellies and chests. His inner muscles squeeze Cas’s cock as he thrusts once, twice more and calls out Dean’s name as he climaxes. Dean can feel the hot cum coating his insides, and he loves it.

Cas rolls them to their sides, and Dean snuggles against him, sighing and wrapping his arm and leg around him.  Once Cas’s heart rate and breathing are back to normal, he runs his fingers through Dean’s hair and peppers his face with kisses.

“Are you back with me yet, baby?” Dean hums in reply. “I’m going to get a towel…”

“hu-uh,” Dean counters.

“Baby, we’re sticky and kinda gross,” Dean shrugs a shoulder. “You may not care, but I do.” Cas unwraps himself from Dean’s clutches. “I’m going to run us a bath, be right back.”

Dean flails after him but doesn’t put much effort behind it. “mmmm…” He groans a pathetically dejected sound.

Cas shakes his head and laughs at Dean’s wasted attempt.

Moments later, Cas is back with orange juice and Dove’s chocolate for Dean. He waves the chocolate under Dean’s nose, Dean opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue.

“Talk about spoiled,” Cas chuckles, placing the candy on Dean’s tongue. Dean smiles as he dissolves the smooth chocolate in his mouth, rolling onto his back, he gazes at Cas.

“Yer tha best, my own Prince Charming.” He teases around a mouthful of chocolate, raising up on his elbows so that he can drink the proffered juice.

“Get up, Princess, your bath awaits.” Cas bows deeply, motioning toward the bathroom.

Dean wobbles when he stands, so Cas helps him to the bathroom. Cas gets into the tub first and lets Dean lean against his chest.  He takes the washcloth and cleans the cum off both of them then begins massaging Dean. Starting with his neck and shoulders, working his way down each arm then his pecs and abs.

“Baby?”

“hmmm?”

“Can you tell me what it’s like?”

Dean slightly adjust so he can look at Cas, “What what's like?”

“Wherever it is you go, that headspace. It's… its like you completely leave, but…”

“But what, Cas?”

“This time it, you, seemed different.”

Dean rests his head on Cas’s shoulder, quiet for a moment while he collected his thoughts. “This time _was_ different. Before it was always like my brain, just shut down, and my body laid there and took it, ya know? Like the plaything, the ragdoll, that everyone thought I was.  Sex was always a tool, a punishment, or a paycheck. I, I um… “ he looks down and plays with Cas’s fingers. Cas remains quiet, allowing Dean time to gather his strength, “I always hated sex, Cas. It meant pain, and ownership, and abuse. No one ever showed me any kindness or… ya know, love, not through sex, not really in any way at all. Not till you.” Dean pauses and kisses the palm of Cas’s hand, pressing it on his chest over his heart. “I used to hide in the darkest corner of my mind. Shut out the voices and the pain, or the disgusting things being done around me or to me. I didn’t want to see the watchers.”

“Wait, the what? Watchers? What the hell is a watcher? You mentioned that before.” Cas interrupts, a bit freaked out by some of the details Dean was sharing, he didn’t want to cause Dean to stop or feel judged, but that term threw him for a loop.

“Just what it sounds like. When I was with…. um, in Kansas, before... before being sent to the Ranch and all. There were these, parties and shit. H-h-he always brought in more boys and sometimes girls. Some people came to participate, and others came to watch. Somehow the watchers creeped me out more than the ones doin’ the … stuff.”

“So,” Cas tries to understand, “like an orgy with an audience?”

Dean huffs out a harsh laugh, “These weren’t no average orgies. No, those people liked some sick shit. Drugs, underage, you name it.”

“BDSM?”

“Heavy on the SM. There was bondage and hard discipline, but I learned fast and already knew how to disappear in my own head years before that sadist ever got to me.”

Cas nuzzles his face against Dean’s hair, soothing himself as well as Dean, “Is that where you went? To hide, in your mind?” he asked, unable to hide the sadness at the thought of Dean hiding from him during sex.

“Oh, Cas,” Dean sits up so he can turn an look at Cas, “God, no… not this time. I mean, before, when I got triggered, yeah, kinda. But you caught me and pulled me back, you didn't let me dig-in and hide. You helped me stay with you.”

Cas gave him a tight smile, “Dean, if you hate sex, …”

“No, Cas, past tense!” Dean cut him off, “I hated being a six-year-old kid and having my foster parents touch me and make me touch them. I hated being a pre-teen with a foster mom who would ride me and make me cum in her or on her. I hated being tied up in a basement and gang banged while slimy bastards watched. I hated selling myself to survive living on the streets. Cas,”  he places a hand on Cas’s face and wiping his thumb across his beautiful cheekbone, “before I met you, no one had ever made love to me. No one but you ever cared enough to stop… or to stay. No one before you ever touched me or looked at me with tenderness and love.” Dean stops and takes a big breath, his heart racing and tears flowing unbidden.

Cas blinks away his unshed tears and swallows around the lump in his throat. Dean just unloaded a ton more than he’d bargained on this morning and he needed to catch up, to wrap his brain around what Dean just said.

“Come here,” he needs Dean close. Dean leans against Cas, and they both relax with the touch.

“I love you so much. I’ve never been in love before.” Cas rubs his hand up and down Dean’s torso while he considers his next words. “I never want you to feel like you need to hide from me, physically or mentally. Your voice matters to me, your thoughts and opinions matter and are important to me. If… if you don’t want to be touched or to have sex, you need only say so, and I will respect your wish and still love you with all my heart.”

Dean tilts his head back and looks at Cas, “Will you wash my hair?”

“Of course, Dean.” Cas grins and nudges him to get up so they can turn on the shower, and drain the tub. He knows Dean is finished talking now, and that’s alright, because, with that simple request to wash his hair, Dean was letting Cas know that they are okay.

Cas washes and conditions Dean’s hair, after Dean rinses, they switch places so that Cas can wash his own hair.  Dean’s eyes are glued to Cas, admiring how his body moves with even the simple task of hair washing. They get out of the shower and help each other dry off, Dean pulls Cas back to the bed, spreading the sheets over their earlier mess, he climbs on and tugs Cas down with him, covering them both with the soft, old quilt. He wraps himself around Cas and kisses his clean, warm chest.

“I’ve never been in love before, either, Cas.” He reaches up and kisses Cas on the lips, “Today, when we made love, I did go into a headspace; but it was so different. It was beautiful, and warm, and weightless. All my nerve endings were firing at once, and I felt like I was floating. I could smell you and taste you, every breath and heartbeat was you. It felt like… I never wanted it to end, I was high, and you were - are - my drug of choice. I’ve never blissed out like that before.”

“I have to admit that you scared me a little. The last time you drifted into a subspace, it wasn't a good thing. And, for a little while, you were totally gone, practically unresponsive, I didn’t even think you could hear me. Am … Am I being selfish? Wanting you to stay with me and not drift like that?”

“No, Cas, not at all. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m not sure, exactly, how to control it yet. Jesus, when you went to town on my prostate...I nearly passed out; I didn’t mean to; but, Cas, I loved every second of it, and every touch sent electricity through me. It was… magic. I know I sound super corny, but I don't know how else to explain it.” Dean looks up into Cas’s eyes, “Cas, I swear, I’m not afraid of you.”

Cas crooks his finger under Dean’s chin and gives him a chaste kiss. “I’m glad of that. I don’t think I could stand you being afraid of me,” He combs his fingers through Dean’s hair, “If this headspace is pleasant for you and not a retreat from me, then it’s kind of amazing that when we make love, it’s so good for you. ‘Cuz, baby, being with you is the best I’ve ever had.” Cas smirks at Dean and shoves him onto his back. Cas goes in for his attack.

Dean (absolutely does not) squeals and laughs as Cas blows raspberries on his belly. Dean wiggles to wrestle Cas off him, flipping them to the foot of the bed. He can’t help giggling as he tries to find Cas’s secret tickle spot.

“I just have good self con-trOOOLL!!” Cas loses it when Dean traces his fingers up to his armpits, giving in to the joy of the moment, once he lets go, everything seems to tickle, every touch sends vibrations all over his body. “Uncle! UNCLE!” Cas cries, trying to catch his breath.

Dean stops his tickle attack and flops back on the bed. They both lay there breathing hard. Cas stretched out with his head at the foot of the bed, and Dean draped diagonally toward the headboard.

“You hungry, yet?” Cas asks.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Dean replies. Cas bursts out laughing again.

* * *

 

When he comes out of the bathroom, Dean hears Cas talking on the phone out in the studio; he sounds all business and slightly grumpy.

“Everything okay, Cas?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Cas gives him a quick kiss, “Gabe and Charlie are going to meet us at the diner.” He smiles but its hollow.

“Cas?” Dean knows that the phone call was about something unpleasant, but he isn’t in the mood to push.

“We have to make a stop by the gallery after we eat. There are some final papers that Gabe and I need to sign. Then we have the rest of the day to do as we please.” Cas’s smile is more genuine this time. “Did you pick something from your list?”

“Well, I don’t think we’re gonna have time for Niagra, the Grand Canyon, or Mt. Rainier today… so I was thinking about maybe checking out one of those Segway tours. Is that too corny?”

“No!” Cas gives Dean one of his rare big gummy smiles “That sounds like a lot of fun! I’ve never been on one of those things.”

* * *

 

Gabe and Charlie are already at the diner when they arrive. Charlie practically jumps into Dean’s arms when they walk in, he spins her around, and they all take a seat in a booth, chattering away like teenagers.

Charlie punches Dean in the arm, “I still can’t believe how tall you got. And dammit, you landed such a dreamy boyfriend!” She looks at Cas, “He was quite the confused teen, he wanted all this,” she waves at her body, “but even back then I preferred tacos to sausages.”

Everyone at the table burst out in laughter at her graphic description.

“Thing is, he also had the hots for … what was his name? The older boy that worked out at the ice cream stand?” She teases Dean.

“Marc, his name was Marc,” Dean answers, trying to act nonchalant as he sticks out his tongue at her.

“Oh! Remember that time you crashed your bike because he smiled at you?” Charlie laughs, and Dean just blushes and nods.  “God, Dean was always so easy to make blush! Lookit, his ears are glowing!”

Cas wraps his arm around Dean’s shoulders and draws him in as the group continues to laugh and talk about stunts they each pulled as kids. The conversation varies throughout the meal, but everyone enjoys the casualness and friendships, old and new. Cas is thrilled to see Dean so happy. He’s not sure anything could beat Dean having his dear friend back in his life. As unexpected as it was, Cas knows it can only mean good things for Dean. The meal winds down and they all prepare to leave.

“Cas?” Dean nudges him with his shoulder.

“Yeah, Babe?”

“Charlie hasn’t seen your paintings at the gallery, yet.” He hints. “You and Gabe have to meet with the director and do work stuff…”

“Are you trying to say that you want Charlie to accompany us to the gallery? You want some company while Gabe and I are doing the ‘boring’ work stuff?”

“Is that okay?”

“Dean, of course, it’s okay. She’s your friend; I would never ask you to deny time spent with her. But, do you think she wants to hang out in a stuffy old gallery looking at pretentious art?”

“Staap, Cas, your art is beautiful.”

Cas leans in close and whispers, “My favorites are the sketches of you while you’re asleep and naked.”

Charlie clears her throat, “Secrets are rude.”

“Oh,” Dean smirks, “Cas was just telling me how much he likes to draw my...” Cas clasps his hand over Dean’s mouth.

“Charlie, why don’t you come along and keep this one out of trouble while Gabe and I finish up some work at the gallery?”

She grabs Dean’s hand and pulls him toward the door. “Yay! More time with my bestie!”

Dean's eyes are wide but so is his smile. Cas knows in an instant that the two of them together are always going to be the best kind of trouble. He and Gabe follow the two laughing lunatics out the door and the two blocks to the gallery. This may just be the best day he’s had the privilege to see Dean experience, even better than the zoo.

“See that huge banner? That’s Cas’s!” Dean points toward the museum entrance.

“Hey, Babe, Gabe and I are heading to the office, you two stay out of trouble, alright? Claire should be working today if you want to see her.”

“Oh, Charlie, you have to meet Claire, she’s the coolest, she knows almost as much about the artists as Cas does.” He grins and gives Cas a quick kiss on the cheek before he pulls Charlie to the front desk to search out Claire.

Cas shakes his head and follows Gabe to meet with Crowley. ‘ _Yep, this is a good day_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing to follow along with my story.


	33. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is excited to show Charlie Cas's artwork in the gallery, and the student's section, he loves the kid's art so much. They walk together with Claire as their guide, enjoying the beautiful art while Cas and Gabriel attend a final meeting with the gallery director Mr. Crowley.  
> Everything is going fine ... until it isn't.

Charlie and Dean walk hand-in-hand through the gallery. Claire smiles as she proficiently answers all of Charlie’s questions about the various artists.  Dean beams with pride when they enter the large hall displaying Cas’s paintings. He watches Charlie’s expression as she studies them. He purposely didn’t tell her they were all nudes, but she seems to be taking it in stride, even if she does turn her nose up at the larger-than-life-size penises.

“Cas has been doing some new sketches and even working on some of his private paintings this week. It is so much fun watching him paint. Dude, it’s like he’s in another world when he paints - the music cranked, the doors wide open and him standing there oblivious to everything else around him. Jesus, like the other morning I came out of the shower, and he was standing there in nothing but a pair of worn-out, holey, paint-stained jeans, freaking barefoot and shirtless. I swear to God he’s trying to give me a heart attack with that shit!” Dean barks out a laugh, and Charlie bites back a squeal and punches him in the arm.

“O.M.G. Dean! You’re such a horn-dog!” They laugh loud enough that Claire shushes them, grinning and trying not to imagine Mr. Novak practically naked, ‘ _Ew, he’s old, that’s just gross!’_

“So, Mr. Novak is working on something new?” She asks to get the topic off Dean’s obsession with Cas’s body.

“Well, he’s just, he calls it ‘adding new color to old ideas’, I guess that means because he doesn’t have a commission right now he has time to work on some of his own pieces.”

“Oh, I was under the impression that Mr. Crowley had a large commission for him.”

“Dude, if you heard how Cas yelled at Gabe about that guy... I think he’d rather burn his paintbrushes than ever work with him again.” Dean grimaces remembering Cas’s rant about the man.

“Wow, so it’s true. There are rumors about Mr. Novak’s dislike for Mr. Crowley. I heard some crazy stories about the opening night for the exhibit.” she whispers, “Is it true? Did Mr. Novak really show up in blue jeans and cuss him out in front of everyone?”

“Oh yeah! That happened. Cas even took selfies. Gabe said he was wasted and by the time that he was able to drag him out of here, he had to physically stop Cas from knockin’ the shit outta that prick.” Dean grins and nods at the girls, “Gabe can’t even bring up the dudes name without Cas gettin’ in a pissy mood.”

“That’s too bad; I enjoy Mr. Novak’s art and our visits when he comes in to conduct business.”

“Hey, Claire,” Dean is ready to change subjects, talk about Cas being upset over that Crowley guy is making his skin crawl, “is the kids’ art still on display?”

“It sure is. Shall we head that way?”

Dean recaptures Charlie’s hand, “Next to Cas’s stuff, the kids’ art is my favorite.”

Charlie gives him a kiss on the cheek and swings their hands as they walk. “Do you really like these paintings of Castiel’s or is it just because he’s your boyfriend?”

Dean stops and looks back at the large canvases, then gives Charlie a serious look, “Honestly?”

She nods.

“I think these are beautiful, technically flawless, but…” he pauses and studies the exclusive, expensive art pieces, “the stacks of partially completed paintings he has in his studio are so much, more, him.”

Claire and Charlie both stare amazed at Dean’s assessment of Cas’s work.

“What?” He turns back to face them.

“You’re still such a romantic.” Charlie pats his cheek.

Claire is gawking at him. He rolls his eyes, turning to face her and raises his eyebrows in question, “Okay, what have you got to add?”

Claire’s grin grows to a full smile, “You’re so different from the first time you visited. I see, now, why Mr. Novak is always bragging about you. People try to get him to discuss his painting, and he has a way to turn the conversation around to how proud he is of you.”

“Geezusss… let’s just go look at the kids’ art.” Dean blushes and rushes past her through the archway, the girls giggling behind him. ‘ _Great, two against one, thanks Cas_.’

Cas grits his teeth as he listens to Crowley rehash the request for a commission consisting of six large-scale canvases over a span of twelve months. The theme is actually intriguing but the overall concept and, more so, the time frame are unappealing and unmanageable. Done with wasting his time, Cas slaps his hands down on the arms of the plush leather chair and stands up to face his manager and the director.

“Thank you for this final payment, which signifies the completion of this current contract. Working with the staff at this gallery has been a pleasure, perhaps sometime in the future, when there is a new general director, I will, once again, establish a working relationship with this gallery. I will not, however, be accepting any new commissions from you or those whom you manage or consign. Please do not contact my manager or me. Have a nice day.” He squints and gives the man a sarcastic smile as he turns to leave. “Gabriel.” he barks, reaching for the door knob.

Gabe shrugs, “He’s the boss. So long Mr. Crowley.”

Cas and Gabe find Dean, Charlie, and Claire in the children’s exhibit. Crowley is several steps behind the two men as they enter the room.

“Gentlemen, is that any way to conduct business?” Crowley questions as he steps out of his office to follow the other men.  He pauses when he reaches the archway and sees Claire, “Hello, Darling,” he coos at the young woman.

“Red…” Dean whispers as he squeezes Charlie’s hand.

“Ow! Dean, that hurts.” Charlie cries out as she works her fingers out of his tight fist. “Dean. Let go! Jesus…” she glances down and sees a puddle forming around Dean’s feet. “What the hell?”

Dean’s eyes are tightly closed, he’s shaking uncontrollably, and his breath catches, he sways as Cas rushes to his side.

“What happened? What did you do!?” Cas glares at Charlie, then down at Dean’s wet pants. He’s never seen Dean react to anything quite like this.

“He was fine until ya’ll walked in!” Charlie snaps at Cas, “What’s wrong with him? Did he just piss himself? Jesus, Castiel, what the hell?”

Dean’s fists are tightly clenched at his sides, tears roll down his cheeks, and he begins to hyperventilate.

“Shit.” Cas lowers Dean to the floor, trying to help him catch his breath, “Dean, deep breaths, come on, Baby, breathe for me.” He tries to soothe Dean but nothing is working, Dean’s eyes roll back, and he passes out.

“Castiel?” Charlie cries. “What’s happening?”

“Gabe!”

“On it!” Gabe has already connected to a 911 operator, describing Dean’s condition and their location. “Help’s on the way, Cas.”

* * *

 

Dean’s head spins in the bright lighting of his room. He slaps his hand over his eyes and flinches when the IV pulls against the back of his hand. Whimpering, he tries to call for Cas, but his throat is too dry and tight. He can feel the presence of people in the room as he realizes that he’s no longer at the gallery. ‘ _Shit, this is bad. Where’s Cas?!_ ’ Trying again to call out for Cas, he manages a horrible whiny sound that he doesn’t even recognize as his own voice.

“Hey, Babe, here, let me turn this light off.” Cas clicks off the offensive fluorescent light, and Dean slowly blinks open his eyes. Dean groans and flails as he realizes where he is. Shaking his head and fighting with the covers, trying to get out of the hospital bed.

‘ _No, no, no, this is bad, I can’t be here_.’ Dean pushes at Cas and the IV yanks against his hand. He grits his teeth and attempts to pull the tubes out.

“Sweetheart, wait!” Cas places one hand on Dean’s chest and the other over the IV needles in his hand, “Please, listen to me.”  

Dean stops fighting and with tears streaming down his face, he lets out a shaky breath. He stares into Cas’s eyes begging to be let up.

“Baby, I know you don’t like hospitals, but you passed out, and I couldn’t wake you. Do you remember what happened?”

Dean grips Cas’s shirt, silently pleading. ‘ _T_ _ake me home, Cas_.’

“Dean, can you answer a few questions, I just need you to let me know Yes or No, okay?”

Dean nods, still gripping Cas’s shirt. Cas looks over his shoulder, and Dean finally sees who else is in the room, Eleanor, Dr. Fritz, some man he’s never seen before, and a nurse who is now holding the door open.

‘ _Shit,_ ’ Dean pants and shakes his head, pushing away from Cas. He doesn’t like this, too many people, too many doctors.

“Baby,” Cas sits on the bed and wraps his arms around Dean. “Baby, it’s okay. That’s Dr. Liu; he treated you when we brought you to the ER. He was just consulting with Dr. Fritz.” Cas twists around to speak to the professionals in the room, “Can y'all please take that out to the hallway? Making him nervous isn't helping.”

The two doctors nod and step out of the room with the nurse, but Eleanor comes over to speak to Dean.

“Dean, I’m going to stay here. I’ll be sitting there, in that chair, while Cas gets you all caught up.” She points to a recliner in the corner of the room. Dean glances at the chair, at Cas, and then nods. He isn’t afraid of Eleanor, she is safe and calm. She gives Dean space when he needs it or a firm, grounded place when that's what he needs. Eleanor is good.

Cas caresses Dean’s cheek, and whispers, “May I kiss you?”

Dean jerks his gaze from the counselor and glares at Cas, frowning and shaking his head, then studies the pained look in Cas’s eyes and slowly nods. This is Cas, his Cas, his person. The kiss is soft, chaste, and calming. Dean sighs and relaxes back against his pillows, more prepared, now, to answer Cas’s questions.

Cas holds one of Dean’s hands and rests his other hand on Dean’s thigh, absentmindedly stroking it with his thumb. Before Dean woke, he had been discussing with the doctors and Eleanor what took place at the gallery, but they need to learn what went through Dean’s mind before he collapsed. Cas had convinced them that it would be best if he was the one to talk to Dean. Eleanor agreed, knowing how Dean is likely to react to doctors hovering when he awoke. They were right, just having the doctors in the room was enough to upset Dean.

“Okay, Babe, you comfy?”

Dean gives Cas a small, hollow smile.

“Charlie said that the two of you were enjoying the exhibits and that Claire was with you the whole time. Is that correct?”

Dean nods.

“She also said that you were in good spirits and quite talkative?” Dean grunts and nods, the embarrassment of freaking out in front of her sinking into his memory. Dean hadn't told her everything yet, not all the really bad stuff. She knows he's been in therapy with Eleanor at the Center for a while, but Dean hadn't given a lot of those details - or any really. He preferred to focus the conversations around his time with Cas.

“Do you remember me and Gabe walking into the room?”

Dean wipes angrily at his eyes and looks away. “You’re safe, Sweetheart, no one is upset with you. I’m only trying to establish how much you remember.”

Dean huffs and jerkily nods.

“What about Charlie, do you remember squeezing her hand? Do you remember her yelling at you?”

Dean’s eyes go wide, and he looks up at Cas in horror, shaking his head. ‘ _Did I hurt Charlie?_ _Fuck! I'm such an idiot. She's gonna hate me now.’_

“She’s alright; you just scared her when you wouldn’t let go. She was worried about you. Gabe took her to the coffee shop a little while ago; she didn’t want to leave your side.”

Dean covers his eyes with his free hand and fights back a sob. He remembers how Charlie stayed by his bedside when he broke his leg all those years ago.

“Do you remember anything about what could have triggered you, Sweetheart?”

Dean shrugs, pulling his legs up toward his chest.

Cas presses on his thigh and halts his retreat. “Lean on me, Baby. Don’t hide from me.” Cas’s voice is soft and pleading, Dean's never heard him sound so sad.

Dean scoots closer to Cas and wraps his arms around his neck, laying his cheek on his shoulder and hiding his face in Cas’s neck. Cas is thrilled that Dean is no longer pulling away from him. He rubs Dean’s back and hums softly until Dean relaxes in his arms. Dean lets out a sigh and nods his head against Cas.

“Do you remember something?”

Dean nods again.

“Can you try to tell me? Show me?”

Dean sits up and points to his ear.

“You heard something?”

Dean nods, fear behind his eyes.  He tries to force out the words, but it only makes his head hurt worse, his eyes feel like they have sand in them and the buzzing is getting louder, he gags and chokes. Cas reaches for the trash can, but Dean waves him off, shaking his head, coughing as he catches his breath. ‘ _Fuck! Why is my brain so broken?’_  He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and growls.

“Shhh, slow down, Baby,” Cas combs his fingers through Dean’s hair, and offers him some water, “Breathe, relax.”

Dean leans his head against Cas, sipping at the bendy straw.

“Eleanor, can we borrow your notepad?”

She flips to a clean sheet and hands her notebook and pen to Cas.

“Thank you.”

Cas puts the book on Dean’s lap and taps his hand with the pen. “Show me.”

Dean looks at the paper, the pen, then into Cas’s eyes, lost as to what Cas wants from him. His mind is foggy, and all he wants to do is go home to Cas’s little studio and curl up on the couch with him. He doesn’t want to talk or remember or think. This is all too hard, too scary. Why won’t Cas just take him home? Maybe Cas isn't taking him home; maybe he’s going to dump him back at the Center and leave him there.

“Show me, Dean.” Cas repeats gently, “The words are suck in your head, but that’s when you get to talk to me with pictures, remember? Just like before, at the Center.”

Dean glances at Eleanor, who is patiently watching without intruding on Cas’s method.

Slowly, he takes the pen from Cas.

Cas scoots back just enough to allow Dean some space, but keeps his hand on Dean’s shin for comfort and to keep Dean grounded.  The room is quiet, all the bustling of staff in the hallway seems to be much louder now that no one is talking. Dean frowns and focuses on the paper, ignoring the banging and talking in the hallway, ignoring Cas’s hand on his leg, ignoring the squeaky-wheeled cart in the hallway, ignoring the tears dripping onto the paper as he draws. He has to tell Cas. He _has_ to. Then Cas won’t get rid of him, won’t dump him at the Center, won’t hate him because he’s broken.

Cas doesn’t watch as Dean draws, he closes his eyes and revisits every second of the events from earlier. From the moment he finished his meeting and texted Charlie to find out where they were - getting a selfie of Dean smiling like a lunatic pointing at a child's sculpture as a reply, to the moment Dean collapsed in his arms. Nothing Cas saw, or heard, felt out of place or stood out in that particular setting.

Dean taps Cas’s knee with the pen and Cas looks up to see Dean holding the notebook toward him. Cas swallows hard and takes the papers. Dean taps the pen nervously on his own hand.

‘ _Eyes?_ ’ Cas glances at Dean, he studies the details of the drawing.  Eyes seem to jump off the page at him; the shadowy figures have no other distinguishable features. Several figures are in the background lined up shoulder to shoulder; others are much closer. All the eyes stare directly off the page. ‘ _Good attention to detail, putting the irises centered always makes the eyes appear to follow you’_ it’s a good sketch, and all those creepy figures staring make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Cas hands the notebook back to Eleanor.

“Oh, I feel like they’re all watching me.” She shivers and looks up at Dean and Cas.

Cas knows Dean doesn’t like people staring or watching him, “Was someone watching you, Baby?”

Dean scrunches his face and aggressively shakes his head, tapping at his ear, which quickly escalates into a full blow fit with him hitting his ears with the palms of both hands and practically howling because he can’t say what he wants and is in an impatient state of mind.

“Dean, Baby, don’t get angry, I’m trying.” Cas grabs Dean’s head and tucks him into his chest, protecting his ears from another attack. “Hey, nobody gets to hurt the man I love, not even that dork himself, you hear me” Cas sighs out a sad laugh and kisses the top of Dean’s head, letting Dean sit up, he takes ahold of Dean’s hands.

“Okay, we know you heard something and that it triggered a memory … a memory of …,” The idea clicks in Cas’s mind like a bolt of lightening, “Watchers!”

Dean nods vigorously, releasing one hand he taps his own lips. He keeps repeating the action of touching his lips then his ear. He motions up his throat, opening and closing his mouth although he is still unable to speak.

“Talking, he heard someone talking, and the voice triggered a memory.” Eleanor aids in this not-for-fun game of charades.

“But there was no one else in the room.” Cas squints and tilts his head as he watches Dean pantomime aggressively trying to make a point, and wishing he knew how to read lips because Dean was really trying hard to say something.  

“Claire, Charlie, and Dean were in the room, Gabe and I came in through the archway just as Dean…” Cas runs his fingers down Dean’s face and calms his hands, “Just as Dean went into a fit, shaking and well, wetting himself, that’s when I grabbed him, and he collapsed in my arms and began to convulse until he passed out. No one else came into the room.”

Dean drops his eyes and gives a small nod, he holds up one finger and taps his ear.

“One, you heard one other person?” Eleanor asks. Dean nods. “Do you know who it was?”

He huffs, disappointed with himself, he looks up at Eleanor, pointing two fingers at his eyes and shakes his head as he points them away.

“You didn't see the person?” She asks. He drops his face into his hands.

Cas stands abruptly. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” he states much too calmly.

“Castiel?” Eleanor circles the bed to face Cas.

Dean stares at Cas. A bead of sweat is trickling down his sideburn, and his face is red, like he’s been holding his breath. His eyes are narrow but Dean can tell that they’re dark and dilated. Cas’s whole body is tense, almost to the point of vibrating, as he keeps his voice low and calm. His whole demeanor scares the shit out of Dean, he’s never seen Cas so tense with anger.  Dean knows that this is all his fault, his fucked up life is once again causing trouble for Cas. Everything is his fault.

# # #

“Gentlemen, welcome. Please follow me, the party is this way.” Alastair directed the men toward the back of the club, pausing at the table arranged next to the door, “As discussed, fees are collected prior to entry.”

Each man handed a stack of bills to the young man at the table. The young man placed the money into a metal lockbox and glanced quickly at Alastair for instructions.

“These are the last of the guests for this evening, boy. Take the box to the office and make sure it goes into the safe.” His orders leave no room for any question as to what might happen if they are not followed to the letter. The young man jumped up and quickly walked to the office.

“My, my, you do train them well,” the shorter man acknowledged, his British accent doing little more than grating on Alastair's nerves.

“Of course. That’s why I always get the highest bids,” Alastair smirked, looking down his nose at the man, “Shall we?” The doorman opened the door to allow them to pass. The large, padded door closed behind them and the thump of the house music faded away. Passing through a second set of double doors at the end of the short hallway, a completely different environment opened up to the men.

The room was almost as large as the main club floor. A bar ran along the wall to the left of the doors. Around the perimeter were several couches with low tables and a few booths. At the far end of the room, was a small stage. Arching over the dance floor, was a wide catwalk with stairs at either end. Two dancer’s platforms, approximately five feet high were at the opposite corners from the stairs. Decorating the room for the evening's event were a variety of benches, chairs, suspension tripods, cages, and a large free-standing St. Andrews Cross. Adding to the display was a birdcage hanging from the center of the catwalk.

Alastair describes a few more details as he leads the men through the room and directs them to find a seat, “All the equipment displayed tonight is available on our website, and there are examples of smaller items which are available for purchase here. Yes, this does include the items you choose to use throughout the evening, those must be purchased not rented. The Pets are available to rent for the duration of the event. Separate rental agreements may be arranged. The auction will be held near the end of the event. The Pets to be auctioned will not be a part of the evening’s encounters, and the particular Pets you play with may or may not be available for future rental.” He turned to speak to one of his employees before ascending the stairs to the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. Everyone has been made aware of the rules and signed an agreement. I will not tolerate my rules being broken, as most of you are already aware.” There are sounds of agreement and chuckles from the crowd. “Now if you will direct your attention to the main floor, our Pets for the evening are entering to the right of the stage.”

A large man dressed in black leather led a line of young adults and teens into the room. All the Pets were naked, save for the collars, wrist and ankle cuffs and black masks covering their eyes. They walked into the room with one hand on the shoulder of the individual in front of them. Twenty-five males and ten females, the eldest was twenty-two, and the youngest was a mere fourteen. The males were wearing cock cages and strap in plugs.  Both the males and females had been cleanly waxed and were free of body hair.

The participants murmured and stood to begin their examinations of the youths. Their preferences had been given to the host as part of the paperwork prior to the event. Everything up until this point had been quite businesslike. The participants, along with those who would be viewing and taking part in other ways, descended upon the line of Pets. Now, the fun could begin.

+   +   +

Dean hated being the smallest and youngest. No matter where he was, that seemed to be the case.  Even in this nightmare he got teased and beat-up, all the time. This situation was no different from any other in his life. The other boys here called him a baby and punched him even harder if he cried. The girls were either complete mental cases, taunting him and bragging or never saying anything to anyone. A few of these freaks actually liked doing this shit. Two of the older boys worked for the website or something, Dean’s not really clear about all that, but he knew they got paid to do porn. Dean wished he could get paid, too. Maybe then he could earn his way out of this place.

A hand on his caged dick brought him back to the present, and he did his best not to flinch at the touch. He was thoroughly inspected by more than one person. Hiding his disgust, he bit the inside of his cheek and forced a straight face, glad to be blindfolded. He really didn’t want to see the faces of the perverted old men who took part in this upside down world, especially if they were as hideous as Alastair.

There were announcements and directions barked out over the speakers. Participants were to make their final choices and move to their designated areas.

The whole thing would have been laughable if someone was trying to describe what was taking place, but Dean couldn’t find anything funny when he knew that he was about to be used up, by God knows who, for the next few hours. At least he wasn’t to be auctioned. Alastair said he was only rentable and not _high quality_ enough to be auctioned, whatever that means. Dean knew what qualities the bastards liked. He was overflowing with youth, soft skin (for the most part, minus his scars), a narrow waist, plump full lips, and he was still small enough that his hands and features were nearly delicate. He also knew that he was not big or strong enough to overpower a full-grown man, but tough enough to take whatever they gave him.

Dean heard a few men arguing over him. It would be nice if it was a couple of people that he genuinely fancied fighting over him. He dreamed of a hot guy or girl wanting to take him out on a real date. However, in this instance, he wished there wasn’t going to be a winner, because no matter what, very soon, some old guy or big bear was going to be fucking him in all kinds of weird ways. His stomach turned, and he wanted nothing more than to puke and hide in a dark hole.

Alastair’s voice joined the other men and the next thing Dean knew, a choice had been made. ‘ _Great._ ’ He resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t getting out of this. Alastair had made it perfectly clear that because Dean couldn’t grasp the idea of belonging to him alone, he was relegated to the ranks of Pet. Even though Dean still lived at Alastair’s house and had to keep up the appearance of a happy foster family to the authorities. He was treated with the same regard, if not worse than the other Pets. _‘I should win an Oscar for my acting skills_.’ Dean mused, anything to keep his mind off being placed onto the cold leather bench.

“Strap the lad firmly,” Dean heard a man say in a British accent. That took him by surprise, and he tuned in for a moment to actually listen. He felt hot breath on his face, it smelled of brandy.

“Hello, Darling,” purred the man. Dean tilted his head, half wanting to see what this guy looked like.

“You will be entertaining me this evening, I paid your master extra, so I could have you all to myself tonight. Your photo does not do you justice, boy.”

Dean felt a hand on his chin, turning his face side to side.

“Yes, you are very pretty.” Fingers trailed down Dean’s back to his ass, thumping once at the plug. “A bit mangled with all these atrocious scars. That’s too bad, but it seems that your training has had good results. You are quite well-behaved.”

Dean rolled his eyes, unseen behind the mask. He’d learned his lesson the first time Alastair brought him to a party. No matter what happened here, it wasn’t worth disobeying and earning a punishment from Alastair when they went home.

The Brit ordered the Players into position, and Dean took a deep breath and retreated into his mind, finding a dark hidden corner that the monsters couldn't reach.  He knew he had no control, no safe wording out of this, no reason to fight. The only thing he could do is hide, even if it was in his own mind.

# # #

The nurse gives Dean a sedative in his IV. Dean’s fighting it, fighting Cas, snarling and baring his teeth at Eleanor, he swings at the nurse, but Cas holds him down until the drug kicks in, and Dean’s fight slowly dwindles. Cas kisses Dean’s forehead when he falls asleep, and he wipes the sweat and tears from his face with a soft cloth.

Cas collapses in the chair by the bed, “Goddammit!” He cries, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, head resting on his clenched fists. “He hasn’t been this bad in months.”

Eleanor places a hand on his shoulder, “Castiel, you know he still has a long way to go. There are things he has locked away, hidden even from himself, that are likely to be triggered by a sound, a smell, a taste, anything can trigger a hidden memory.”

“I know! I know.” Cas admits, relaxing his hands, rubbing them on his thighs, “All I want for him is to be happy and know how much I love him, that he’s safe with me.”

“He does know that, Castiel. He knows you love him; he has shared with me how your presence helps him to be calm and how much he loves you in return. But, Castiel, Dean’s mind is a labyrinth of dark corners, locked doors, and monsters. His overall mental health was stunted at an early age.” She pulls a chair next to Cas and sits, so they are on an equal level. “I’m sure that you’ve noticed how his reactions to many situations are very childlike.”

Cas nods.

“He was never taught how to analyze a situation rationally. His instinct is to go straight into flight or fight mode, and typically he prefers to flee, though God help those he fights.”

“That’s obvious, but he’s been doing a lot better. We talk about things, Eleanor. This week has been amazing, every day we have discussions about how he feels, any ups or downs. He’s really opened up, he thinks about what he wants to say, and damn, he blows my mind sometimes. There is so much going on in his mind, so much more than he has ever allowed anyone to know or see.” Cas watches Dean sleep, unable to stop the tears, “As selfish as it may sound, I want to keep that man, forever. I need him as much, maybe more, than he needs me.”

Eleanor pats Cas’s forearm, “Love is a selfish emotion.”

* * *

 

“Gabriel, there is a way we can help Castiel and Dean.” Charlie taps away on her keyboard. "You know my skills go way beyond web design. I have a certain skill set that, well, let’s just say that nothing on the internet is secure if someone knows what they’re doing.” She winks at Gabe.

“Hacking! Shh, hacking?” He shushes himself and looks around the office. Charlie just smirks. “I’m so glad I hired you!”

“We start with the basic stuff,” she pulls up the usual web information, social media, gallery website, DMV, “Once I have his personal information, I can dig into his past. Nothing is out of my reach.”

“Do you think we can find enough to take care of this situation and keep Cassie out of jail for murdering this creep?”

“Definitely, _IF_ you can keep Castiel from killing him, I’m positive that I can dig up enough to ruin that man’s life.” Charlie waves Gabriel off and sets back to typing.


	34. Bucket List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has to spend the night in the hospital after the episode at the gallery.  
> Castiel is worried, he tries to rest but ends up flipping through Dean's Journal.

Cas tries to find a comfortable position in the hospital provided recliner/bed contraption. His phone buzzes and he rolls his eyes at the fifth text from Gabe, he wasn’t ignoring him, per say, but he was tired and didn’t really want to go over it again.

          Castiel> I swear I won’t sneak out and hunt the bastard down.

          Gabe> Please DON'T.  just be there for your boi. guess those tranqs worked finally

          Castiel> Yes, Dean is sound asleep. And it was a sedative- not a tranquilizer. He’s not an elephant.

          Gabe> could have fooled me

          Gabe> damn that boys strong !!!

          Gabe> what pissed him off ????

          Castiel> Not getting to go home. He lost it when the nurses shift change came and he was still here.

          Gabe> did the nurse do something?

          Castiel> No. Just made the mistake of being the one to ask him if he was ready for bed. He growled and started throwing things.

          Gabe> YEAH - you had him in a bear hug when I walked in - that nurse was pissed

          Castiel> man, I feel bad for that first guard

          Gabe> how’s your head?

          Castiel> fine

          Gabe> did you get that guys blood out of your hair?

          Castiel> Yes, but my shirt is stained.

          Castiel> Thanks for bringing a change of clothes and the other stuff.

          Gabe> NP

          Gabe> You gonna sleep?

          Gabe> Cassie ??

          Gabe> You still there?

          Gabe> ??

          Castiel> Impatient much…

          Castiel> Had to piss. No.

          Gabe> No ??

          Castiel> No. Probably not going to sleep.

          Gabe> u should while big-D is out cold

          Castiel> What if he wakes up?

          Gabe> sap

          Gabe> ur right there next to him + nurses = duh

          Castiel> No, they upset him, he needs me

          Gabe> YOU'RE RIGHT NEXT TO HIM

          Gabe> get some sleep

          Castiel> night Gabe

          Gabe> txt me in the am

          Gabe> night Cassie

 

Cas rubs the back of his head were he collided with the security guard’s face. His hair is still damp from washing out the blood.

Earlier that afternoon Dean was convinced that he would be released and get to go home with Cas before dinner. By the time the dinner tray arrived Dean was anxious and kept scratching and trying to pull out his IV. Cas asked the nurse for one of Dean’s anxiety pills, somehow she deemed that updating the whiteboard and scolding Dean like a child for pulling at his IV as appropriate nursing behavior, leaving with a ‘tsk’ “I’ll inform the charge nurse” instead of making any attempt to assist. The next nurse, well nurse’s aide, who walked in to the room to check on blankets and pillows, received Dean’s wrath. It all happened more quickly than Cas expected.

# # #

“Hey, darlin’, you all set? Is that blanket enough or would you like another one? We don’t want you getting cold tonight.”

Dean stared at the woman, ‘ _What the hell? I don’t need a fuckin blanket, I need to go home!_ ’

“How about you, Hun?” The aide turned to ask Cas when something whizzed past her and hit the wall.

Just at that moment the realization clicked and Dean figured out that he wasn’t going home, but was expected to stay the night in hospital. Dean growled and howled and screamed as he started throwing any and everything within reach. Luckily, everything in the place is made of plastic, and there wasn’t much on the table near him. The nurses aide ran out of the room and called security and Cas tackled Dean, wrapping his arms around him, trying to keep him in his bed and stop him throwing things. The problem was that when Dean gets upset, he doesn’t hold back, he used his full strength, putting all his weight behind his attack, and he knows how to fight dirty. Cas is no small man, he and Dean are close to the same weight although Dean is an inch or two taller, he struggled to keep Dean in bed, but he was failing, miserably. Dean was laser focused on getting out of the bed and out of the hospital.

“Shit! Dammit, Dean! Stop!” Cas grits his teeth and leans into Dean, but the street fighter in Dean took over. He absorbed Cas’s weight, causing him to over-lean and then Dean was once again in charge of the altercation, making Cas slightly off center.

The security guard ran into the room and as soon as Dean saw the uniform, he lunged toward the man, Cas stumbled backwards, becoming Dean’s weapon of choice. The guard charged across the room, Dean surged forward, pushing Cas off balance. The guard must have bobbed when he should have weaved which caused Cas to stumble backwards right into him. The back of Cas’s head struck the guards face, possibly breaking the man’s nose, definitely hard enough to cause an extremely bloody nose.

As soon as Dean saw the blood, he screamed like a wild man, trying to attack the guard, Cas grappled Dean to the floor and held him while the nurse finally gave him a sedative shot. Once Dean lost his fight, he was tucked back into bed, his IV had been ripped out, so the wound needed to be bandaged, and a new IV catheter placed. The nurse completed a full round of routine checks before tucking Dean in for the night. She also checked Cas’s head and made sure none of the blood was his, there was no open wound, so she deemed him fit. Forty-five minutes later the hall was quiet and the staff was back to their normal procedures.

* * *

 

Gabe brought a change of clothes for each of them and a few other items that Cas requested, Dean’s journal being among them.  Cas had hoped that Dean might take the time to draw instead of concentrating on his anxiety. That plan fell through rather quickly, every time a nurse or aide came into the room, Dean was amped up all over again, every sound in the hall make him jumpy, nothing Cas did or said seemed to calm him in this environment.

Cas was glad for the change of clothes, even though he’d already changed into a pair of scrubs. He’d realized, hours later, when things calmed enough, that he had sat in Dean’s pee at the gallery. He was so worried about Dean the whole time that he failed to realize that he was just as wet and gross as his boyfriend. Eleanor finally spoke up, and as politely as possible, told him how bad he smelled.  At that point, he took a quick shower and changed into scrubs, throwing on his button-up so he didn’t look like one of the staff to Dean.

Now, Cas sits thumbing through Dean’s journal while the man sleeps. He had tried to sketch but his heart wasn’t in it, so he decided to take a stroll through Dean’s progression and pitfalls. He smiles as he traces a finger over the Blue Jays and bumble bees. He grimaces when he sees the shadow monster on so many pages. He smirks and glances up at Dean when he flips to the drawing of Dean on his knees in front of him. He’s glad he got to experience that particular depiction first hand, happy that their relationship now includes sex.  A few pages after that is the image of Dean’s house in rubble, that one makes Cas shiver. He flips a few more pages and comes to Dean’s list. Cas is reminded of a few nights earlier when he and Dean were lounging in front of the fire and Dean jumped up from his seat, laughing when Cas slapped his rear, and ran into the house, coming back out with his journal in hand.

# # #

“Okay, Cas, I’m ready to show you my bucket list.” Dean cocked his head and thumbed at the edge of his journal.

Cas patted the seat next to him beaconing for Dean to rejoin him. “You know you don’t have to show me until you’re sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready, besides, you’ve already made some of these happen.” Dean sank into the seat and tucked in close to Cas. Cas gave him a kiss on the top of his head as Dean flipped the pages to his list.

           

DEAN’S BUCKET LIST (because Cas said to write shit down)

  * Leave the Center
  * A real date with Cas
  * A super awesome cheeseburger
  * A home
  * Watch Cas Paint (so great- I never want to stop)
  * Go to the beach (not a lake)
  * Swim in the ocean
  * Go see a real pro baseball game
  * Go bowling
  * PAINTBALL
  * Go to a real zoo (not a truck stop with a caged wild cat)
  * Go to a real amusement park (not in a parking lot)
  * See a movie in a theater (not sneak in the back)
  * Fancy dinner - the dress up kind
  * A cool science museum
  * set off fireworks
  * Build and launch a rocket
  * See a REAL ROCKET
  * Fishing
  * Batting cage (and get to bat)
  * See a legal car race
  * Don't fuck this up with Cas
  * Stay off the streets
  * A home
  * Paint on canvases with Cas
  * Trampoline Park (that sign said there’s one in town)
  * Roller skating
  * Horse backing with Cas
  * Ice skating (can that happen in TX?)
  * Water Balloon fight
  * Get a GED
  * stargazing
  * See the desert
  * ~~Stop~~ pissin ~~Cas off~~
  * ~~DON’T BE STUPID~~
  * Be brave like Cas
  * Visit Bobby
  * See how beers made (Cas likes beer)
  * Stay out of trouble
  * Learn to cook (so Cas don’t kill me)
  * Get a drivers licens
  * Swim in Cas’s pool
  * Christmas with Cas
  * Climb a mountain
  *         ➥See a mountain
  * Go shopping (not stealing)
  * Get a cool phone - so I can text Cas
  * DON’T punch Gabe
  * Get a haircut
  * Get a shave at a fancy barber
  * Let Cas fuck me
  * ~~Fuck Cas~~     Fuck Cas
  * Don’t cut
  * Tell Cas <3 every day
  * ~~****D** **ONT BE A FUCKN CHIL** **D****~~
  * ~~**THIS IS**~~
  * ~~**STUPID**~~
  * ~~**I** **DIOT IDIOT IDIOT**~~
  * ALWAYS APOLOGIZE        _**→   Only if you’re wrong ~CN <3  
**_
  * Remember CAS IS GOOD!!
  * Remember Cas loves me
  * Think
  * Breathe
  * LOVE CAS :) <3
  * Picnic
  * ~~Go on a plane~~    ~~Maybe~~    ~~????~~    **NO**
  * Kiss Cas more
  * Go Karts



                         _I Love you CAS!_

“Baby, this is a great list!” Cas smiled at Dean. Reading over the full list, Cas had to bite his lip to stop from showing how much some of the items hurt to see. The list is so truthful and eye opening, so many of the items are things that most people take for granted. Cas was slightly embarrassed by how many he wouldn’t have given a second thought to, or even thought of adding to a bucket list, actually, he’d never imagined making a list like this for himself. Cas wanted to tell Dean that he’s is not stupid but decided that since Dean crossed it off his list, he must have been in a low mood when he wrote it, Cas didn’t want to sour the current atmosphere, but felt it would be okay to add a note or two.

“Cas, what’d you write on there?” Dean peeked at the page and read Cas’s addition out loud, “‘Only if you’re wrong’, well, most of the time I am wrong.”

“Dean,” Cas admonished, “that’s not true. Sometimes you are wrong but not _most_ of the time, just like anyone else. Sweetheart, you just fail to take notice of the many times that you are right.” Cas pointed at another item on the list, “I like this one, ‘Kiss Cas more’, yeah, that’s something I can get behind. And these two, ‘Fuck Cas’ and ‘Let Cas Fuck me’. Anytime you’re ready, Baby. I’m here for you.”

Dean blushed and tucked his face into Cas’s chest, “Shuddup,” he mumbled against Cas.

“Nope, I’m going to support you in completing your bucket list. Even if that means I have to suffer the torment of kissing you every single day, multiple times. I’ll even dedicate my poor dick to the cause.” Cas dramatically swooned, “Oh, whoa is me! My poor body is to be given as a sacrifice at the altar of Dean!”

“Caaaas,” Dean laughed, flopping gracelessly back against the opposite end of the lounge, covering his flushed cheeks with his hands, “Now you’re just making fun of me, asshole” he complained with no anger in his voice.

Cas sat up, sliding his hands up Dean’s torso, leaning his weight on Dean’s rear, “I’m only teasing, Dean. I really do support you and want to help you fulfill your dreams.” Cas eased up the hem of Dean’s t-shirt and kissed just above the waistband of his jeans. “Wanna work on the kissing one?” Cas wiggled his eyebrows and winked at Dean.

Dean threw his hands off his face, wide-eyed, and a smile from ear to ear, “You betcha!”

# # #

Cas startles when a nurse moves something beside Dean’s bed. He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry,” she softly apologizes, “I _almost_ finished up without waking you.”

“No, it’s fine,” he grunts as he sits up, uncomfortably, “How is he?”

“His vitals are good, and he seems to be sleeping more peacefully than you.” She smiles, “Can I bring you anything? A pillow? Another blanket?”

“No thanks, it’s fine, I’m fine.” Maybe, if he keeps saying it, it will be true.

Cas stands up to stretch once the nurse leaves. He takes care of his toilet needs, and checks on Dean. This man is so beautiful, and when he’s sleeping, his face is so soft, so angelic; no lines of stress creasing his brow, his features are smooth and relaxed like a child without a care, none of the pain or torment of his past life can be seen. The freckles that play across his cheeks and nose stand out against his sun-kissed skin. Cas brushes a few stray hairs off Dean’s forehead, straightens his covers, and fights the urge to kiss him.

His phone buzzes and falls off the arm of the recliner. Retrieving the annoying device, he expects to see a text from Gabe but sees an incoming message from Charlie, instead.

 

          Charlie> Hi Castiel, I hope I didn’t wake you. I wanted to let you know that Gabriel drove me home.   
                        How’s Dean? How are you? Gabriel told me about your head but won’t give up many details.  
                        How long has Dean been this bad?   He won’t spill the deets either.    
                        I need information! Oh, also, I may need information on a certain someone-who-shall-not-be-named. I have a plan.

Cas re-reads the text a couple of times to allow his sleep-dull brain time to comprehend.

          Castiel> Hi Charlie. The nurse already woke me. Dean’s sleeping. I’m fine.

          Charlie> :)

          Charlie> Are you really?

‘ _Shit, even over text she can tell I’m lying, no, she’s just being nice_.’

          Castiel> :) Fine. Just worried about Dean.

‘ _There, that’s true, and sounds appropriate_ ’

          Charlie> About The-One-who-shall-not-be-named… you, Gabriel and I need to have a discussion when Dean is busy elsewhere.

          Castiel> Wednesday or Friday work for me.

          Charlie> Dean won’t be home?

‘ _Shit, did no one tell her that Dean is only visiting?_ ’

          Castiel> No.

          Charlie> Oh, I didn’t think he had a job right now.

          Castiel> Let’s plan on Wednesday. Lunch?

There is a long pause, and Cas worries that Charlie is going to ask difficult questions or call for an explanation, or maybe she is just typing out another long message. He paces the room, looking out the window for a few moments, and finally settles back in the recliner.

          Charlie> Ok, Wednesday, lunch.

Well, that wasn’t what he expected, she’s holding back. That’s fine for now.

          Castiel> See you then. Is there anything else you need tonight?

          Charlie> No :) Update me tomorrow. You should get some rest.

          Castiel> Thank you, Charlie. Good night.

He lays his head back against the stiff pleather and sighs, maybe he should have taken the offer for a pillow.

* * *

 

When Dean sees the nurse come into the room, he puts a finger to his mouth and points at a sleeping Cas. The poor guy had rolled over onto his side and looked quite uncomfortable, his left arm and leg dangling off the chair, and his right arm oddly arranged behind his back.

The nurse cringed at the sight, “Is he going to be okay when he wakes up?” she whispers. Dean nods, then grimaces and shrugs his shoulders. The nurse smiles and shakes her head, moving to complete her tasks of checking Dean’s vitals and morning medicines.

“You look much better this morning. How are you feeling? Any pain?” She asks as she writes a few notes on her tablet. Not seeing Dean’s reactionary head movements, she looks at him and begins to ask again, “How are …”

Dean stops her by holding up his hand, and giving the universal _one moment_ sign and a nod. He takes a deep breath and a slow blink, opening his mouth… nothing comes out. He drops his head with a huff, trying again, he holds up one finger then points to himself and gives a thumbs up, and gives her what he hopes is a pleasant smile.

The nurse watches him with a questioning look. She looks through his chart and over her shoulder at the still sleeping man in the chair. “Are you being quiet for his sake?”

He considers agreeing, but what if she keeps asking questions? He shakes his head, giving her a desperate look, he points to himself then brings his fists together and makes a motion like he’s breaking something, them points to his head.

“Your chart doesn’t mention anything about mutism,” she apologizes. Dean doesn’t want to fight about it so he just gives in and shrugs, rolling his eyes. “Well, I won’t bother you any longer with a bunch of questions.” She pats him on the arm, and he flinches slightly away, the touch of strangers is not something he likes and even less when he’s still reeling from the earlier events. “You just get some rest. I sure hope he’s alright when he wakes up.” She frowns looking at Cas as she opens the door.

Once the nurse is gone, Dean crawls out of bed and goes to the bathroom, struggling with the IV pole, ‘ _Fuckin’ shit, goddammit_ ’ he wrestles the tubes, tempted to just pull the damn thing out, wishing he was out of this place. He makes sure the extremely loud flush of the toilet is finished before he opens the door and exits the echoey bathroom. Cas is still in the same twisted position, and Dean smirks as he sits on the floor next to the chair. He tilts his head to match Cas’s. He sits there a moment to decide he next course of action, watching Cas sleep for a few more minutes. Dean kisses Cas on the tip of his nose, nothing. He combs his fingers through Cas’s hair, leaving his hand at the back of his neck; no reaction. Dean brings their lips together in a chaste kiss, and Cas shifts ever so slightly, so Dean goes in for another kiss, licking Cas’s lips and sucking his bottom lip. Success. Cas leans in to deepen the kiss, almost falling off the side of the chair.

“Oh, shit!” Cas goans, opening his eyes wide, suddenly awake as he feels himself falling, “Dean?” He fumbles about until he’s seated, flexing his arms to make the blood flow, “Why are you out of bed?”

Dean’s smile falls and he slumps against the wall.

Cas grunts as he fights the chair to stand up, once up, he reaches a hand to Dean, “Come on, up you go, off the floor, Baby.”  Dean hesitates, but does as he’s told, Cas brings him into a hug, nuzzling into Dean’s neck. “Good morning, Sweetheart. I love you.” He kisses Dean’s shoulder and works his way up his neck until he reaches those luscious lips.

The sound of someone clearing their throat lets the two men that they are not alone. Dean looks past Cas toward the door, and Cas releases Dean and turns to see Dr. Liu standing in the open doorway.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re both up and about this morning.” Both Cas and Dean blush. “Dr. Fritz will be here shortly, and will want to do her own check up. Dean, if you don’t mind,” he motions to the bed, “please, have a seat, so I’m able to go over a few things with you.” Dean grabs Cas’s hand. “Castiel may sit with you, it’s alright. Nothing evasive.”

Dean’s eyes go big and he pulls Cas with him to sit on the edge of the bed. Dr. Liu begins his exam of Dean. All the usual areas, eyes, nose, throat, and eyes, but when the doctor raises his hands to touch Dean’s neck, Dean leans away.

“Dean, let the doctor check you neck and stuff. He’s not going to hurt you, Sweetheart.” Dean bites his lip but nods in agreement. Dr. Liu gives Dean a thorough exam, including his most recent scratches and other wounds.

“How’s your head, Castiel? May I?” He motions to the back of Cas’s head.

Dean grins and sticks out his tongue at Cas. Cas glares at Dean. “Of course, Dr. Liu.”

The doctor hums and fingers the back of Cas’s head, then looks in his eyes as well. “You’ve got quite a knot, but other than that, you seem fine. Please, don’t hesitate to see your PCP if you have headaches, blurred vision, or any other symptoms.”

“Thank you, Doctor, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dr. Liu smiles at Dean. “Okay, I’m going to continue my rounds now, but I’ll return when Dr. Fritz arrives.” He stops and turns back to face them, “Can you two behave, or do I need to keep this door open?” He teases with a smirk.

Dean gulps audibly. Cas laughs and waves the doctor off, “We’ll be good, Doc.”

An orderly greets the doctor as he is walking out the door. “Good morning. Dr. Liu. Good morning, Mr. Winchester. I have breakfast for you. Oh, just a moment, I’ll call for a tray for you as well if you’d like, Mr. Novak.” He smiles as he places the tray on the tray-table.

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Cas answers, his stomach aches he’s so hungry.

The orderly leaves and a few minutes later he’s back with a second tray.

Cas sits cross-legged on the bed facing Dean, they share the tray-table, eating breakfast without speaking. Cas makes a sour face at his cup but drinks the foul coffee anyway. When Dean is finished, Cas moves the table out of the way and sits back on the bed, with his feet dangling off the side. He doesn’t question Dean or try to get him to talk or do anything, he just sits there watching his own feet swing.

Dean breaks first. (Cas knew he would) He nudges Cas with his foot, Cas puts his hand on Dean’s foot and massages his insole with his thumb. Dean sighs, relaxing under the soothing touch. Suddenly, Dean jerks away, sitting straight up, staring at the door, not unlike a spooked dog.

“Dean? What is it?” Cas twists around, looking at the door, which is still sitting ajar like the orderly left it. “Do you want me to check?” Dean jerkily nods. Cas opens the door and checks the hall. “No one but staff and a priest,” He turns back to see Dean holding his hands over his ears. “Shit, Baby. What’s wrong?” Dean side-eyes the door, keeping his hands clamped tightly over his ears. Cas holds up his hands wanting to help Dean calm down, “Dean, it’s okay. You’re saf…”

“Good morning, Gentlemen,” greets the Priest, and Dean immediately begins to snarl and growl at the man.

“Shit! Sorry, but you gotta go!” Cas shoves the man out the door and closes it behind him, leaning on the door, he heaves out a breath, his heart is racing as if he’d run five miles. “What the fuck, Dean?” He glares at Dean for a moment while he catches his breath. Dean is curled up with his knees against his chest and still has his his hands over his ears, he’s shaking and crying as he glowers at Cas.

Understanding slowly dawns on Cas. “Oh, my God. Dean. I’m so sorry.” He rushes to Dean’s side and collects him into his arms. “Sweetheart, I know, I know.” He kisses the top of Dean’s quivering head. “It was the accent, wasn’t it, Baby. The Priest has a British accent. It’s alright, he’s gone. You’re safe, Dean, I’ve got you. I’m here, Baby, I’ve got you, shh, I’ve got you.”  Cas coos and rocks Dean. After a few minutes, Dean relaxes in his arms, Cas continues to console Dean with soft words of confirmation and love.

There is a knock at the door, and Dr. Fritz peeks around the door, “Hi, Castiel. I just ran across a very upset Priest down the hall who happens to be pointing accusations in your direction.”

“Probably because I threw his smarmy British ass out of here.” Cas snaps, much more aggressively than he intended.

“Since when are you prejudice against the British?”

Cas sign and lowers his head, rubbing his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. He pats Dean’s arm and wordlessly checks if he’s calm enough for Cas to speak with the doctor. Dean nods but doesn’t let go.

“I’m not, I’m sorry. The man frightened Dean, so I pushed him out before things escalated.”

Cas rubs Dean’s back, “You better, now, Baby?” Dean nods and uncurls his fingers from Cas’s shirt, allowing Cas to get up. Cas moves enough to give the doctor room to sit in the chair next to the bed.

“Not up to talking yet, Dean?” She asks. He looks away from her and shakes his head. “Well, you know that’s not going to stop me.” She grins, they have had many hours of lopsided conversations over Dean’s time at the Center, and though he’s been much better of late, she is not put off by his silence.

Dr. Liu enters the room and greets Dr. Fritz. He takes a moment to update her with a report of Dean’s health status, deeming him physically fit for release.

Dean looks up anxiously at the news.

“Hold on, HotRod,” Dr. Fritz stills Dean with a look, “You’ve had quite an extreme episode. It might be best for you to return to the Center today, instead of tomorrow. You need a watchful eye…”

Dean groans, “Uhhh-nn-nnn” he tries so hard, he only has one more night with Cas and he feels cheated already after spending last night in hospital. ‘ _It’s not fair!_ ’ “NNN-NNN-NOOO!” he howls, his head is throbbing and tears trace down his face from the struggle to force words out, his whole body is screaming, and the words are stuck. ‘ _Cas! I want to stay with Cas!_ ’ His eyes dart between the two doctors and Cas. “C C CA Caaasss!” he finally manages, his throat burns, his voice sounds horse, and he starts coughing. Cas hands him a cup of water which he gulps down, only spilling a little due to his shaky hands. “Caaass” he pleas in a crackly whisper.

Cas takes Dean’s hand and rubs a thumb over his knuckles, he bites his lip and gives the two doctors his best puppy-dog eyes. “It’s his last night, just one more night, please.”

Dr. Fritz stares them both down for a moment. Dr. Liu stands to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the interaction with awe.

“You two are a pair to be reckoned with,” she exhales, “Fine, one final night, but then you must return - as agreed - on Sunday.”

The tension dissolves from Dean’s body and he physically softens, relaxing back against the pillows.

“Thank you! Thank you, Dr. Fritz. Thank you, too, Dr. Liu!” Cas smiles and rubs Dean’s leg.


	35. Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie does a little hacking magic...

“That was too easy.”

Gabriel looks up from his papers, gazing across the room to see Charlie frowning at one of her screens. “Since when is easy a bad thing?”

Charlie plops down in her chair. “Gabriel, there is no way **_that_ ** man is **_this_ ** clean. Dual citizenship, ivy league, rotary club, not even a parking ticket.”

“How far did you check? Is that just Texas? He hasn’t been here that long. Didn’t he come from up east? I have his CV in my files.”

“He’s lived and worked all over the place, that man has traveled. Let’s see, going backwards from his current location here in Austin; Columbus, Ohio, Salt Lake City, Utah, Seattle, Washington, Kansas City, Kansas… Dude, the list goes on and on. Before that he did a stint in Canada; Toronto, Vancouver, and Montreal. He was all over Europe before that.”

“Wow, you’re not kidding. He really has moved around a lot. But he specializes in renovating museums and similar businesses, sort of an efficiency expert, or so his CV says.”

“Yeah, according to this he doesn’t spend much time in one location, just a couple of years typically. This feels like it needs a much deeper search.”

Charlie digs in her heels and gets busy with a more in-depth, agressive search into the man’s history. Gabe gets back to his own work, returning to his own office. A few hours pass in the blink of an eye. Charlie only realizes the passage of time when her stomach growls, prompting her to look at the little clock in the corner of the screen. Getting up and stretching, she walks down the hall to Gabe’s office.

“Gabriel, we’ve been at this for hours, have you heard anything from Castiel?”

“Nope. I’ll send him a text to check on their status. Dean should be going home today.” He pulls out his phone and sends Cas a text. Charlie watches his face as he reads the reply - well string of replies. Gabe’s emotions flash across his face as he reads the incoming messages.

“Uh-oh, that looks like bad news.” She comments at his frown.

“Well, bad and good.” He shakes his head at the story laid out in multiple texts from Cas. “Dean is going home today, but he had another episode this morning. Dean’s due to be released in the next hour and Cassie asked me to pick them up and get them back to his truck. Geez, I think Dean tried to bite a priest!”

“He what?!”

“Cassie said that Dean growled and bared his teeth at a Priest.” Gabe laughs.

“Oh. My. God. Why would he do something like that? They’re going to tie him down for an exorcism if he’s not careful. I mean, sure, he’s never been big on church, but growling at a priest? I don’t get it.”

“Ah, turns out the priest had a British accent and I guess to Dean that was too close to Cr… sorry, He-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named.”

“Oh, poor Dean. But, they’re still going to release him, I mean, there’s nothing really wrong with him that would make them keep him in the hospital, right?”

“Um, right, nothing to keep him in that hospital. Yeah, he’s getting released, oh and he even gets to go home with Cassie. Huh, go figure.”

“What do you mean by that? Where else would he go? Doesn’t he live with Castiel?”

“No,” Gabe hesitantly stares at her, “he lives at… wait, he didn’t tell you?”

“Gabriel. Tell me what? What’s going on?” She stands with her hands on her hips glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel right telling you his personal business. I’m sure Dean, or Cassie, will explain his, um situation when he’s ready.”

“How very diplomatic of you.” She pinches her lips, and squints at him, “Fine. He’ll tell me. I have ways of making him talk.” She mocks a villainous accent. “You go take care of them, and I’m going to get me some food. See you back here after?”

“Sure thing. We can work a while longer, then perhaps dinner with the boys.”

They part ways - Gabe heading to pick up Cas and Dean and Charlie walking to the nearest diner. She is pleased to find a an organic cafe a couple of blocks from the office. The staff is friendly and the menu has the best options she’s seen in one place. After she eats, she browses the small shop at the front of the cafe. Heading back to the office, she takes her time and checks out the surrounding area.

The office is located in a section of town that has been updated, brought back to life after years of being forsaken due to economic struggles. In this case, gentrification was the right way to go. Prior to the architectural rejuvenation, there were many closed businesses due to the recent recession. Now the area has many thriving shops, offices, and restaurants. There are even new residential areas that have been created as several of the old warehouses and industrial buildings have been upgraded into condos. Incredibly, they are arranged to fit the needs of multiple income levels, not just the high end condos that most cities force into gentrified areas. Charlie has even checked out a few of the available condos for herself.

The old architecture is beautiful against the modern buildings. There are dedicated green areas, with trees, plants and beautiful flowerbeds. People are gathered in a few of the green areas and there are even small grassy dog-centric areas. Charlie contemplates taking lunch breaks on a bench in one of these green areas. She loves the new feel of the area, remembering how run down it was when she was a kid.

Charlie reaches the office well ahead of Gabe. She checks her phone to make sure she hasn’t missed any calls or texts.  There is nothing from Gabriel, so she resumes her work, researching the background of one Fergus Crowley.

Gabe comes back to the office close to three hours later.  “Charlie, you’re still here?”

“Gabriel!” She looks up shocked out of her intense focus, “When did you get back?”

“Just now. It took a little longer to get Dean all signed out of the hospital than Cassie thought it would. Then I had to take them to the parking deck to pick up his truck. That was another ordeal, due to it being left overnight. Damn, security had to get involved. Cassie got all righteous and Dean wandered off … so much fun. Once we got that mess cleared up and the hefty fine paid, they were finally on their way. So, I decided to grab a quick bite.” He relaxes on the couch in Charlie’s office, “How was your lunch, by the way? You looked quite enthralled in your work when I came in.”

“Well, sounds like you had a super time!” She snarks, “I found a great little organic cafe, had a nice stroll through the neighborhood, then, once I got back here, I started digging deeper into our subject and have come up with some interesting facts.”

“Yeah, thanks, rub it in,” Gabe jokes, “So, what kind of interesting facts did you dig up?”

Charlie begins to fill Gabe in on Crowley's business history and locations. The list goes all the way back to when he arrived in the US, including his travels back and forth to Europe. He still travels quite frequently, but hasn’t traveled abroad for more than three years.  The man has worked as an art dealer, curator and educator. There are connections to several Boards of Directors for museums and other art society establishments, as well as business functions such as rotary clubs in many of the states he has been located. He also has a long history with charities, both national, international, and local. Charlie has made lists of his locations, travel, jobs and much more.

“Okay, so a few things stand out to me. One is that all the charities he supports are focused on the youth, not that that is a bad thing. Maybe his interest lies in educating kids for their future? Another is that the only place he has ever lived more than once is Kansas. Kansas! Gabriel! Kansas City is also the headquarters for two of the charity organizations that he supports most heavily AND is on the Board for this one,” she shows Gabe the documents for the charity.“The International Studies Alliance, advancing students through international internships. I never knew that was a thing! Where was this when I was in need of some awesome OJT?”

Gabe takes the documents and chuckles at Charlie’s dramatics.

“Then there is the one, Foster Care Association of Kansas. Crowley was never listed as a foster parent, do you think he was a foster kid who wants to give back to help the system?”

Gabe takes more papers reads over the printed brochures.

“Kansas, huh? That’s odd, you’d think New York or Boston or some big city with more national and international connections.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“I know you didn’t leave this alone, too many flashing red lights. You’ve got that look in your eyes that tells me that you know more.”

“Gabriel, you know that Dean lived in Kansas before he moved to Texas, right?”

“Yeah, you think Dean met Crowley there somehow? Maybe through this Foster Care Association? But, he never acknowledged that he recognized the name, and most people who contribute to charities, whether they’re on a Board or not, aren’t going to be interacting with a bunch of kids. I don’t really think that Dean would have met him through some charity Board. Dean was a kid IN the system at the time, surely not frequenting Board meetings or other functions.”

“That’s true. But I’m more interested in this ISIA.” Charlie pulls up more information on her screen, “All of the internships are overseas, Gabe. US kids being sent over to places in Europe, but there is no record for any kids being sent to the US. There is also the fact that Crowley travels to Europe two to three times a year.”

“Right. Let’s put that at the top of the list.” Gabe agrees, “What else did you find?”

Charlie stares daggers at him as she pulls up another page of information. “Possibly because of the work he does on the various boards, he tends to travel to Kansas City more than any other place, well other than New York. It’s like he has a fixation with Kansas.”

“I never imagined Kansas being such an interesting place.”

“Dean sure never had any fond memories to share from his life in Kansas. I remember, he’d rather talk about practically anything else when I asked him questions about his life back in Lawrence.” She smirks, “That was always a good ploy to get him to help me pick out a new dress or just about anything else I wanted to do. Oh, geez, I sound horrible! Was I really that much of a manipulative cow? Yuck!”

“Charlie, focus.” Gabe claps his hands loudly. “Okay, let’s go over all this again, maybe with both of us doing some cross-checking, we can find another ‘hotpoint’ like the travel, and Kansas City.  We need a more solid baseline.”

The next two hours are spent reviewing Charlie’s research, mapping out points of interest, and outstanding dates. Something that does stand out to Charlie is the last trip that Crowley made to Kansas City AND that he has yet to return.

In March of the previous year, eight months prior to Crowley’s move to Texas, he attended the funeral of the CEO of the ISIA. The published information did not mention the cause of death, only a flood of praise for the man’s good works in the community. Charlie, being Charlie, is down that rabbit hole in an instant. It took her all of forty-five minutes to find the corresponding police report and coroner's report, which shines the light on a much more interesting story.

“Gabriel. Gabriel!” Charlie shouts loud enough to be heard down the hall.

“Jesus, Charlie, you have a phone within reach. Why are you yelling like a crazy person?” Gabe reprimands as he rushes into her office.

“Check this out!” Charlie motions for Gabe to come look at her screen with her. “This is from March last year. _Alastair Mark Rolston, deceased, cause of death gunshot to the head_.  So, it says here that the Kansas City Police were involved in a raid on a night club for… drugs and prostitution, of course it was. Holy crap, the night club was called Foster’s, what the hell? Okay, so there were several arrests and the club was permanently closed. This guy Rolston was a part owner in the club, and after altercations with the arresting officers he was shot three times. Gabriel, this report reads like a bad mafia movie! The news paper article has nothing at all to do with the official information. This guy must have been high up on the food chain to have so much information covered up.”

A few clicks of her mouse and Charlie is once again squealing for Gabriel to look. “Rolston’s brother-in-law is a judge in Kansas City. Rolston was on the Kansas foster care registry. Let’s see… okay, his wife, also deceased. She died thirteen years ago, of awe, breast cancer. Rolston never remarried and retained close relations with his wife’s family.” She gives Gabe an incredulous look, “Seriously though, this guy was still on the foster care registry and owner of a night club? Plus, how does a nightclub owner maintain his standing as the CEO of a organization for students?”

“Wait, go back to Crowley’s info. He was on the board for that ISIA thing. How deeply is he involved with that and with this guy Rolston?”

Tap, tap, tap, Charlie clicks away for a few minutes.

“Crowley was on the Board there at the Kansas City location and he is a partner in the European sister organization, International Studies and Apprentices Group. He is listed as a Travel Guardian and he assists students in their travels from the US to Europe. Mostly it appears that he worked with groups traveling from New York to London.” Charlie gives Gabe a few minutes to read over the windows she has up on her screen.

“Gabriel, I think these men were involved in something much deeper than a business strategy. Some of this just doesn’t line up, everything I find adds to the questions.”

“What is _this_ link?” Gabe asks, knowing better to click on any unknown link in the midst of Charlie’s digging.

“Ah! Yes, that Is a fine example of a website was set-up by people who knew that what they were doing was illegal and they wanted to keep it that way. I found that in the sub-registry of the ISIA information.” She clicks on the link and it opens an encrypted folder. “Crap. Okay, I can do this, give me a few minutes.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, she texts Gabe to come back to her office.

“You really are good at this, is that something I should be worried about?” Gabe asks as he pulls a chair next to her at her desk.

“Nah, I use my powers for good.” She grins. “You are not going to believe what I found.” She opens up page after page of lists.

“What am I looking at?”

“Dude, these are lists of business partners, or so it seems at first glance,” she fidgets excitedly, “Take a look at this.” She brings up one of the lists.

“They are listed as Associates. Many of the businesses, like Rolston’s nightclub, posed as a foster care nonprofit with funds collected from donors.  But the details are not completely business related, not the sort of typical data that a charity organization would gather. These tabs and links lead to specific preferences that are more in line with Rolston’s other business adventure. All of this is deep-web stuff, Gabe. Transactions made in bitcoin and websites that a traditional search engine couldn’t direct you to, everything is unregulated and the whole point is that the origin of a user’s internet connection was hidden.”

Gabe reads over a few of the Associate’s data pages. “What the fuck is this? Some kind of porn or kink registry? There are things here that make even me cringe! Charlie, what have you stumbled onto?”

“Oh, just wait. It gets worse. These, here, are really going to turn your stomach.” Again, she opens a set of new windows, the lists are similar but with no names, only numbers that correlate to the data. She points to one in particular.

“M916, male, caucasian, fourteen, 5’ 9”, slim build, short  brown hair, firm muscles, clean bill of health, no STD, scarring on torso and limbs.” He looks up at Charlie, “What the hell is this? It sounds like a registry for a race horse or something. This is describing a kid!”

“Click on the image link.” Charlie points out the link.

Gabe does, and gasps, choking on his inhale, “Charlie, you are keeping back up files of all of this, correct?” He clicks another link, and opens another photo. “Oh, my God. That’s! Charlie! What the hell!?”

      

“Of course I have back ups, encrypted, multiple copies. And, I know who it is! What did they do to him? Look,” she pulls out her phone and opens a photo file. “Gabriel, that photo was taken not long before he was sent to Texas. This is Dean the year I met him,” She holds up a photo she took of him at the Ranch.

   

“I think we have a strong case, but please, keep digging. We need all the ammo we can gather. We don’t want to leave any cracks for Crowley to weasel his way out of. We need to make sure the connections are sound. Send me anything that I can help with. Once we have a well established platform, we can move to stage two.”

“On it, Boss!” Charlie acknowledges as he leaves her office.

Half an hour later, Gabe receives a text from Castiel.

Castiel> We’re heading to Harvelle's in 20 minutes.

Gabe> Is it that late already?

Castiel> Dean is excited to show off his haircut.

Gabe> Cool. C U 1hr

Gabe calls Charlie’s desk phone, “Hey, Charlie, Cassie just texted. We need to head out in about fifteen minutes.”

“Right, Boss. I’ll tidy things up and lock down the info.”

Just as Gabe and Charlie arrive at his car, her phone pings a message.

Castiel> Hey Charlie! I got Star Wars socks! :)

She stares at her phone, unsure why Castiel would be telling her this, and she has never seen him use emoticons before.

Castiel> O! This is Dean! :)

Charlie laughs and shares the news with Gabriel, “They must have sent him home with the good drugs, he’s in a much better mood this evening.”

“Yeah, that guy’s a trip. Ya never know what he gonna say or do next. I keep telling Cassie, Dean is one moody motherfucker.” Gabe laughs as he unlocks the car.

Castiel> Cas is driving and said I can text you.

Castiel> Cas says Hi!

Charlie> Heya Dean! You seem excited. :) I’m glad you’re feeling better. Gabe and I are just leaving the office. See you shortly. Looking forward to seeing your smiling face <3

Charlie and Dean text for the next fifteen minutes, right up until Gabe uplls into Harvelle’s parking lot.


	36. Baby's Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is finally released from the hospital and Cas is intent on making sure Dean doesn't wallow in his depression or remain upset over what happened at the Gallery.  
> They had big plans for this weekend and Cas is determined to keep his promises.

“Thank you! Thank you, Dr. Fritz. Thank you, too, Dr. Liu!” Cas smiles and rubs Dean’s leg. “We had so many plans and this..., “ he pauses and twines his fingers with Dean’s, “This incident, has stolen enough of Dean’s time. Besides, I have promises to keep before he returns to the Center. Right, Babe?” Cas winks at Dean, who bites his lower lip and shyly drops his eyes.

“Take care of him; I’m counting on you, Castiel. You have my direct number now, so if anything happens, call me immediately and bring him back to the ER.” The doctor eyes them both, pointing at each of them, “And behave, both of you.”

Cas agrees and walks the doctor to the door, thanking her again for all her help, and for allowing them to have this final evening together. He likes her, she and Eleanor are both good for Dean. They both genuinely care about their patients. Cas is glad that he has gotten some time to get to know her better over the past twenty-four hours. Dr. Jessica Fritz is a refreshing surprise. One wouldn’t assume at first glance that this woman is such a force of nature, she is highly intelligent and steadfast. She looks younger than her actual years with long dark brown hair and unyielding green eyes behind her dark-framed glasses. Dean had mentioned that she is a black belt in martial arts and trained in self-defense and that she is not afraid to put any unruly patient in their place. Cas respects the good doctor and can tell that Dean does as well. Even though Dean stands more than half a foot taller and is much stronger, he always (eventually) defers to her directions. Dr. Fritz’ way of speaking is honest and direct without being harsh or cruel; she makes you pause and think before reacting. Cas thinks she is kind of amazing. Her smile is kind; she seems to have the patience of a saint and the strength of an archangel. Dean is a lucky man to have her on his side.

Dean digs around in the duffle bag for a clean shirt, grinning as he slips a t-shirt over his head.

“Baby, that’s my shirt.” Cas pauses as he sees Dean in his grey AC/DC t-shirt. Dean glares at him and takes a step back, shoving the bag toward Cas. “Fine. Be that way.” Cas throws on a plain black t-shirt and a faded army-green button-up, handing Dean a black and gray flannel from the bag.

Cas texts Gabe to let him know that they are in the process of releasing Dean. The paperwork and the back-and-forth of the nursing staff take longer than anticipated. Gabe keeps rolling his eyes and huffing loudly as he paces the hallway; Cas had to send him out of the room because his disgruntled attitude was causing Dean to become more anxious.

When they finally leave the hospital, Gabe takes them to the parking deck near the museum to pick up Cas’s truck. Cas owes a hefty fine, and his wheels were clamped, he didn’t want to show Dean just how pissed off he is at the situation.

“Dean, why don’t you wait in Gabe’s car while we go straighten up this mess with the security office?” Dean grabs his hand and holds on like a vice, looking around the parking deck and twitching at every noise. “I take that as a No,” Cas takes a calming breath and kisses the back of Dean’s hand. “Come on then; I need to give these people a piece of my mind.”

“Oh, come on Cassie, just pay the damn fine, so we can go.” Gabe whines.

“They clamped my wheels and put a fucking sticker on my window, Gabe. A disgusting sticker that will be hell to get off.” He barks as if that were the most heinous act ever committed.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Gabe complains and falls in step behind Dean, who is being pulled along by Cas.

Dean smirks at Gabe, Cas grumbles, “You could leave now, Gabe.”

“Someone needs to take Dean home if you get arrested, Jackass.”

“Not helping, Gabe. Besides, I’m just going to explain…”

“Please, just pay the fine.” Gabe interrupts Cas’s rant before he could get started.

Moments later, Gabe is standing against the wall with his arms crossed and his face resting in one hand as Cas reaches full self-righteous lecture level ‘explaining’ his views a bit too loudly and angrily to - well,  _ at _ \- the security officer and the two police officers the man called into the office.

“Sir…” The security officer tries. Cas talks over him, complaining about defacing private property.

“Sir,” One of the police officers step closer to Cas, “Please calm down.”

“Cassie.” Gabe speaks up, “Castiel!” His concerned tone startles Cas out of his rant.

“What, Gabe?!”

“Where’s Dean?”

Cas stills, looking around the small office, “Shit!” He steps into the outer office, “Dean?”

“Sir, if you will calm down, we can discuss…” The police officer begins again.

“You don’t understand, I… He… Gabe, where is he?” Fear pulses through Cas, his anger completely forgotten. He runs out of the office into the expansive parking deck. “DEAN!”

Gabe gives the police officers a brief explanation, stating that Dean is Autistic and prone to wandering off and easily gets lost. It’s a lie, but believable and much simpler than the long, confusing truth. The police officers immediately agree to assist in finding Dean, putting aside Cas’s earlier attitude. They understand the urgency in carefully handling someone with any type of mental instabilities. The men disperse throughout the parking deck in search of the missing man.

Twenty minutes later one of the police officers spot Dean sitting on a bus stop bench just outside the main entrance of the building. He radios his partner to confirm and notify the others.

“Hey, buddy,” he gently greets, “Dean, right?” Dean nods. “Your friends are worried about you. Do you mind if I sit here with you while we wait for them to come down?” Dean shrugs a shoulder and shakes his head.

Cas, Gabe, and the other police officer come out of the building a few minutes later. Cas pauses as he watches Dean interact with the cop. They are both smiling and looking up into a small, nearby tree; Dean is pointing at something in the tree; Cas is reminded of their time lying under the tree on the grounds of the Center, watching the baby birds in the nest. The officer nudges Dean’s shoulder and points at Cas and the others. Dean turns around to look and smiles so big Cas can see nearly all his teeth, then just as suddenly, the smile falls away, and he turns back and looks down at his hands.

“Dean?” Cas sinks to his knees in front of Dean, “Are you hurt? Did you get lost? Why did you leave?” Cas reaches up to hug him, and Dean pulls ever-so-slightly away. Cas stops his movement and gasps; he lays his hands on Dean’s knees. “Baby?”

Dean furrows his brow and looks down at Cas with a tight frown, anger and disappointment shine behind his eyes. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and takes a deep breath; he grips tightly to the edge of the bench. More than anything he wants to cling to Cas and leave this place, go back to Cas’s little pool house and hide from the world; but no, not this time, this time he has to be brave, strong. He had to get out of that tiny office, Cas was so angry, so loud, yelling at that man like he wanted to hit him. Dean really wanted to tell Cas to calm down, but what if Cas turned that anger onto him? Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to handle Cas screaming at him like that, so he decided to get out of the small room. He could still hear Cas once he left the room, his voice echoed through the parking deck, so he kept walking until Cas’s voice disappeared and one he was outside, the sounds of the city calmed him, he found a bench and sat down to wait for his nerves to stop tingling and his heart to stop racing. Dean was a little confused at first when the bus driver kept staring at him through the open doors, so he shook his head, and the driver finally shut the doors and left, looking up at the sign he realized it was a bus stop and not just a bench. Dean listened to the people passing on the sidewalk, watched a dog piss on a signpost, felt the breeze on his face, then a policeman was speaking to him, one of the cops that were in the office with Cas.

“Y-you’re wwwrong. “ His voice is gruff and scratchy from lack of use, and slightly shaky because Cas might still be angry.

Cas’s eyes go wide, and his mouth drops open at the accusation, “What?”

“Wrong,” Dean growls.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I don’t understand.” Cas tilts his head and squints at Dean the confusion is think in his voice.

Dean reaches into Cas’s back pocket and grabs his wallet, taking out a credit card, he shoves it at Cas and points at the parking deck entrance. Anger still pulsing behind his eyes as he stares unblinkingly into Cas’s shocked face.

“Oh.” Is all Cas can say as he takes the card and his wallet. He stands and walks back into the security office, wholly defeated and shamed by two little words and the look in Dean’s eyes.

The police officer stays with Dean, who has decided to remain on the bench while Cas goes inside to right his wrong, and get his truck released.

“You alright Dean-o?” Gabe asks. Dean nods. “Great, well, I’m going to head back to my office. I’ll leave you in the capable hands of this nice officer.  See you guys at dinner.” Gabe knows that Cas has been derailed and his attitude adjusted, and that Dean is in safe hands; he is no longer worried that Cas will cause any farther scene. Dean waves and turns back to look at the empty bird's nest in the tree.

Cas reaches across the table and taps his finger on the ugly yellow Formica. “How’s your soup, Dean?” he timidly asks.

Dean has barely looked at him since the parking deck. He had pointed at the items he wanted for lunch and Cas ordered for both. When they entered the little diner, Dean walked directly to a booth and sat so that Cas had no option but to sit across from him. He’d kept his arms crossed and glared at the table as though the faded yellow top had personally offended him. Now, he slurped his soup and crunched his salad angrily. He knows he’s acting like a petulant child, but dammit, he’s still upset at how Cas acted at the parking deck. He’d never seen Cas so angry before and at first it really scared him, that was not the person he has gotten to know over the past months. What if Dean pissed him off? Would he scream and shout like that, would he hit Dean? He didn’t lash out when Dean destroyed the studio, but Dean could tell that he wanted to.

“Dean, I’m sorry.” Cas’s voice is shaky, “I’m so sorry.”

Dean looks up at Cas, his eyes narrow and mouth tense, “Eat.”

Cas swallows around the lump in his throat and nods, taking a bite of his roast beef. They finish their meal in an uneasy silence. Dean is deep in thought, still processing what transpired. 

Cas is deep in shame, being given the silent treatment has forced him to think about his actions. ‘ _ Was it necessary to take such a pompous attitude about his truck being booted? I really did frighten Dean by becoming so angry at the guard… Jesus, I’m a thoughtless idiot. What was I trying to prove? _ ’ Cas is unable to taste his meal, ‘ _ Gabe told me to back off … but no, I wouldn’t listen to anyone _ .’ Cas glances up at Dean, who doesn’t seem to be enjoying his meal either, ‘ _ I did this, I nearly lost him... _ ‘ 

After the awkwardly silent meal, Cas and Dean make the short trek back to the truck (Cas was lucky and got a curb spot close to the diner). As they climb in, Cas keeps glancing at Dean, who is doing a great job at ignoring him.

“Dean,” Cas nearly whispers, afraid to make things worse.

“I love you,” Dean says quietly, calmly as he takes Cas’s hand. Cas intakes a shaky breath, shocked by the proclamation after being on the receiving end of Dean’s angry silence. “I love you,” Dean repeats, “So much.” He scoots to the center of the bench seat and turns to face Cas. “I … I was upset, scared,” his voice still low, but better sounding after food and drink, “mad at you. I’m sorry. It just hurt so much.”

Cas sucks in another breath and fights the crushing implosion of emotions; he hurt Dean.

“Oh, Baby, no. You don’t need to apologize. You were right when you said I was wrong. I was acting like an entitled ass. This is so not how I wanted your day to go.”

“Prove it?” Dean looks up at Cas through his unruly fringe. Amazed at his own bravery in pushing his will and his need for Cas to make things right between them.

“Oh, I plan to.” Cas gives him a smirk. Dean leans closer and licks his lips, slowly breathing out a hot breath, so close Cas can feel it on his lips. Cas closes the small distance, sighing in relief as their mouths meet.

The honk of a passing car reminds them where they are, Cas grins as he pulls out of the parking spot, Dean still sitting next to him.

“I think you’re going to like our next stop.”

Cas’s hand is on Dean’s lower back as they walk into the Barber Shop. The place is old school, not a fancy salon with products, fashionistas, and moms with their kids. A good old-fashioned barber shop with three dark leather and chrome barber chairs on one side of the room, and four chairs along the wall for a waiting area. In the front of the room, at the large window, is a card table where two old men are playing cards. The patrons are talking and laughing like old friends. In the center of the back wall is a large, raised shoe shine station, taking up the area like a throne, the thing must have been from the ‘60s. Everything in the room is brown leather, wood, and chrome.  There is a man in one chair getting a shave, and two other men who appear to be staff, one sitting at the farthest station in conversation with the barber giving the save, and the other turns to greet Cas when the bell chimes as the door opens.

“Castiel. Good to see you, my friend. You here for a much-needed cut?” The man chuckles as he shakes Cas’s hand.

Cas barks out a laugh, “It’s not  _ that _ bad, Scott.” He combs his fingers through the hair over his ear.

“Says you.” Scott claps him on the shoulder. “Well, then, how can I help you today?”

“Scott, this is Dean. He is in greater need than I am.” Cas’s hand comes up to caress the hair at the back of Dean’s neck. Dean grins and shivers at the sensation.

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Scott gives Dean a firm handshake. “Welcome to my shop. Do you have any ideas on the cut you’d like today?”

Dean nods but glances nervously at Cas, they had talked about styles on the way over, well Cas did most of the talking, but Dean was opening up a bit more. Now, he was overwhelmed by a sudden bout of shyness. This is different to his inability to speak or to his choice of not talking; he just feels shy; it’s an odd, new sensation and he doesn’t really like it much.  He feels like a small child hiding behind their parent for security. He knows he can do better, but the heat rising in his cheeks makes it worse, and he leans in and whispers to Cas, “Help me?”

Cas rubs his back and gives him a smile. “Dean has had a rough couple of days, Scott; he’s not feeling up to a lot of talking right now. But we did discuss some ideas and… although I’ll miss this length, for … reasons...,” he gently tugs Dean’s hair and winks, Dean’s blush darkens, and his chest feels hot, “He decided that a nice cut, tight on the sides and longer on the top would be a good change.”  Cas combs his fingers through the side of Dean’s hair, Dean throws his hand over his eyes and shakes his head, he huffs and twists out of Cas’s grabby hands, Cas just snickers.

“Oh, for goodness sake, leave the man alone, Castiel.” Scott pats Dean on the bicep, “Come, sit in my chair and let’s get started. Do you mind taking off your overshirt? The collar will get hair all over it, but I can tuck it under if that would make you more comfortable.” Dean smiles and pulls off his flannel, handing it to Cas, before he climbs up into the grand old chair, Scott drapes a cape over him.

Scott speaks gently and calmly, his hand resting on Dean’s shoulder as he looks him in the eye through the mirror.

“Alright, Dean, I’m going to begin by getting a feel of the texture and growth pattern of your hair.” Dean nods. Scott combs his fingers through Dean’s hair, moving it this way and that. Humming and tsks as he assesses, pulling it back tight on the sides and messing with the top.

“I think a Caesar would suit you well. Maybe keep a little extra length here on top, a nice clean fade up the sides and back, keeping this the neckline nice and tight.” Dean nods and smiles, looking at Cas in the mirror.

“Sounds good, Scott, I think that would be a very handsome look.” Cas agrees. “He told me that he used to keep more of a military cut when he was younger.”

Scott picks up his electric trimmer and fiddles with the guards until he finds the one he wants. “Yeah? Well, let’s do something a bit sexier. Whatcha think, Dean?” Dean lights up, smiling so big it hurts.

Dean likes Scott and chastises himself for his shyness and inability to speak to the man.  Scott doesn’t seem offended or stalled in any way by Dean’s lack of communication skills. He informs Dean of each step of the haircut and appears to have an innate understanding of Dean’s need for comfort and assurance. Cas and Scott share a few stories; Dean listens to them and the other men in the shop as they gossip about all sorts of local issues. By the end of his time in the chair, Dean is laughing along with the others at some of the stories. All-in-all it is a pleasant experience.

“Alrighty! Check it out. Whatcha think?” Scott announces as he removes the cape, so Dean can get up and get a good look, he hands him a hand mirror so he can see the back as well.

Dean takes his time, running his hands over the soft short hair and fingering the longer wisps at the top. He hasn’t had a haircut in a long while and has never had one so nice, done by someone of Scott’s caliber. The man is a professional and an artist.

“Awesome,” He breathes out, barely above a whisper.

Scott laughs out, “Well, as responses go, I have to say, that’s my all-time favorite!”

Dean shakes the man’s hand, “Thank you.” he almost gets it out in his normal voice.

“You are quite welcome, my friend. I look forward to your return. You sure you don’t want a shave today?”

Dean contemplates, he wants to experience a straight razor shave at a barber, but he’s afraid he wouldn't be able to sit still and enjoy it today. His skin is tingly all over, and he needs to move. He does like Scott, and the atmosphere of the shop, and wants Cas to bring him back here.

Cas is watching him carefully for a response. Dean shakes his head, looking sorrowfully at Cas, hoping he understands.

“Scott, you did a wonderful job. Dean looks great! We have some other plans this afternoon, but we will definitely be back for that shave, perhaps a shave for me as well.” Cas answers for Dean and gives him an understanding wink. Dean lets out a sigh and relaxes.

Cas keeps staring at Dean on the walk back to the truck; Dean recognizes that glint in Cas’s eyes.

Dean wets his lips and plays with his newly trimmed fringe, looking at Cas through his lashes. “Cas?” He runs a finger up Cas’s arm, “Can we go to that park by the lake?”

Cas’s smile is blinding, ’ _ Oh thank God _ ,’ “Of Course!”

On the short drive to the park, Dean purposely doesn’t look at Cas, and stays on his side of the seat, pretending to look through Cas’s cassette tapes. Every so often he sighs or stretches in a way that happens to make his t-shirt ride up.  Cas pulls into an empty gravel parking area off the main park drive, which is surrounded by a dense treeline. Dean drops the box to the floorboard and quickly slides across the seat, grabbing Cas’s hands, bringing them up to his freshly cut hair and captures Cas’s mouth with his.

“Oh my God, Dean. I love it. I’ve been dying to touch it but knew I wouldn’t want to stop. Shit, I wish we were home.” Cas says into Dean’s mouth between kisses. “So soft, like a puppy.”

Dean laughs, “A puppy?”

“Shuddup,” Cas pushes Dean down and presses his weight against him, hip to chest. “Kiss me.”

“Fine, Dean, if that’s seriously what you want to wear.” Cas grins and rolls his eyes at Dean’s choice of socks and underwear.

“Imma get plain ones, too. But, Cas, STAR WARS!” Dean tosses the packages in the cart.  “Dude, Target has cool shit, so much better out here on the floor than outback” Dean casually references his history of rummaging through the rubbish bins or stealing from the returned items on the dock. “Ya know, they’ll give you a store credit card when you return stuff without a receipt. I sometimes used to steal stuff off the dock and return it to get those cards; then I’d buy food. But you can’t hit the same spot too often.”

Cas bites his lip and watches Dean for any reaction.

“Cas, Batman!” Dean holds up a pair of boxer briefs with the logo across the crotch.

“Cool, Babe. You want those, too?” Cas is relieved that the moment passed, and Dean didn’t fixate. It’s been a roller coaster of a day and Dean’s been all over the emotional map.

They end up with a variety of new underwear and socks for Dean, plus a few pairs of themed underwear for Cas, at Dean’s insistence. They also get Dean some jeans, t-shirts, and flannels, plus a new jacket and boots. Most of the clothes will stay at Cas’s house since Dean doesn’t have storage at the Center and doesn’t want his nice things stolen.

The ride back home is much more pleasant than earlier in the day, the music on the radio seems to be in tune with their current mood as the melodic sounds of Ray LaMontagne, Marcy Playground, and Vance Joy fills the background to their discussion of nothing and everything. They share comments about the day, laughing about simple things. Cas realizes that Dean has regained his balance and has a moment of awe at his amazingly complicated boyfriend.

Once they reach the house, they put away all the items purchased and plan to rest before they need to meet Gabe and Charlie for dinner.

Well, they plan to rest more than they end up sleeping. Dean is itchy from the haircut and decides to take a shower, Cas hadn’t planned on joining him but when Dean strips in the bedroom and grabs his new Batman underwear, stating that Cas should change into the Superman pair... Cas takes one look at that bare ass, and his brain melts, he has no option but to join his handsome man in the shower. The make-out session earlier in the park was just enough to cause them both to be so easily worked up that the shopping had taken much longer because of the constant teasing happening between them, and because Dean was determined not to get banned from Target. Cas strips as quickly as humanly possible, and before they’re both even half wet from the shower, he has Dean pinned to the tile.

Cas texts Gabe while he’s waiting on Dean to finish getting dressed, letting him know that they will be leaving in about 20 minutes.

Dean comes out of the bedroom wearing his new boots, dark jeans, a blue button up and his new brown leather jacket.

“Holy fuck,” Cas breathes out, mouth agape, eyes traveling up and down Dean’s form.

“What?” Dean looks down at his clothes, “Not good? I can change.”

“Don’t you dare. Fuck, you look hot. How can you be even hotter with your clothes on? Damn. I’m glad you didn’t get a shave,” Cas traces his fingers along Dean’s facial hair and to the back of his head, pulling him in for a deep kiss. “Think I can cancel dinner?” He whispers and nibbles Dean’s earlobe. “I love the outfit, but shit…” 

“Cas,” Dean snickers and curls into the tickle of Cas’s breath on his neck, “you that horny already? We just had sex like an hour ago.”

Cas groans and presses his thickening cock against Dean’s thigh, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Yeah, I kinda do, Cas,” he smiles and wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, “But I’m hungry, and I wanna show Charlie this awesome haircut, and she’s gonna love this jacket. What you wanna bet she tries to steal it?”

“Mmm…” Cas pouts and grumbles, “Okay, fine, we’ll go.” Cas smirks and grabs a water pistol off the shelf.

“Um, what’s that for?”

“Well, Babe, I need to be prepared to fight everyone off your sexy ass tonight! I can’t take you out in public looking this good without backup.” he winks and squirts a stream of water.

Dean barks out a big laugh. “Oh man, only you, Cas. Only you.” He watches Cas store the toy gun in the back of his belt, “Wait, you’re seriously taking that thing?”

Cas looks over his shoulder as he opens the door, “Yep!” he pops the ‘P’ and doesn’t add any more explanation. Dean shakes his head and follows Cas to the truck.

“Cas, can I text Charlie and let her know we’re on our way?”

“Sure, Babe.” Cas hands Dean his phone.

Castiel> Hey Charlie! I got Star Wars socks! :)

Castiel> O! This is Dean :)


	37. Transparency through Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas have an eventful day once he is released from the hospital. After their rather adventurous day, Dean is looking forward to a nice dinner at Harville's with his friends, Charlie and Gabe. He doesn't want to think about going back to the Clinic or about anything bad at all, he just wants to have a good day and a good dinner with good company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (extra chapter today)

Cas and Dean pull in to the Harvelle’s parking lot within minutes of Gabe and Charlie.

Charlie pounces on Dean, literally mounting him for a piggy-back ride. “Whoa! You sexy   
beast! Look at you!” She exclaims as she wraps herself around him, he holds his stance and supports her by the thighs. Charlie scrubs her hands over Dean’s very short hair, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with so little scruff on top, dude!”

Cas whips out his water pistol and takes aim at Charlie, “Look out woman! I’m armed, and I’m not afraid to douse you!” Cas tries to look dangerous, but Dean and Charlie’s giggling is too contagious. He sprays a warning shot over Charlie’s head, causing her to squeal and Dean stomps his feet like an angry stallion.

“Onward!” Charlie raises a fist and Dean trudges toward the entry.

Cas shoots streams of water after them, “Stop! Thief! Nobody gets to ride my boyfriend but me!”

Dean stumbles through the doors still carrying his passenger, with Cas hot on their heels. Charlie hops down, barely missing a family coming out the doors. The kids laugh at their antics, but the parents both give them scornful looks and tug the youngsters out to the parking lot. Gabe covers his face with his hand and trails behind the other three as Ellen approaches with her hands on her hips, looking appropriately displeased with the misbehaving trio.

Cas and Dean stop stock still, like a couple of kids caught by Mother.  Charlie is still laughing and trying to catch her breath.

“Um, hi Ellen,” Cas tries to appease the woman he regards as a second mom.

“Hi? Really? Are you kidding me? You must be high to come busting in here like that.”  She taps her foot and gives Charlie a look, “You too, sweetheart?”

“Sorry, Ellen.” All three recite in unison. She stares at them for a moment, and wow if they were still teenagers, they all know that they’d be in big trouble. Her Motherly Glare is frightening even at their age.

“Alright, y'all take the circle booth in the corner. I have a feeling I need to keep you lot out of the general population tonight.” She snaps the bar towel at Dean’s butt when he passes by.

Cas turns and aims his pistol at her. “Look here, woman, I’m not above spritzing you. Dammit, you girls need to keep away from my boyfriend’s butt.” He smirks and backs away from Ellen, who is shaking her head and snickering at his silliness.

They settle in and order their meals along with two pitchers of beer and a pitcher of Coke for Dean. They begin the evening discussing Dean and Cas’s adventures at the barber and at Target. Charlie eases into her research discoveries gently, skirting around the more in-depth findings as long as she can. Dean is in such a good mood, and she doesn’t want to burst his bubble. She watches everyone’s expressions closely as she reveals new facts. Gabe had warned her how easily Dean is triggered, especially after recent events. Bringing up Crowley’s connections with other areas of Dean’s history is going to be tricky. Charlie starts by letting Dean and Cas know that she has made good progress and will continue to dig. She also lets them know that even though Dean recognized him, judging by her findings on his phone and internet records, it seems that Crowley didn’t realize who Dean is.

“Of course not, I was always blindfolded,” Dean grumbles, almost to himself.  Cas reaches over and rests his hand on Dean’s thigh. Dean lets out a sigh and leans closer to Cas, reminding himself that he is safe now, he nudges Cas until he wraps a strong arm around Dean’s shoulders.

Charlie tries to keep the information technical and emotionless, rattling off facts about his travels, jobs, and associates. After about an hour, she looks Dean square in the eyes, “How are you doing? If this is too much all at once, just tell me to shut up.”

Dean realizes that everyone at the table is waiting for him to respond. He’d been okay, mostly, while Charlie unloaded a mountain of information all over him, but now, with her, Gabe, and even Cas staring at him expectantly, he feels all wound tight and trapped. He shoves at Cas, “Move.”

Cas gets off the bench and lets Dean out of the booth. Cas worriedly watches but enables him to work this over in his own way, as long as he doesn’t get overly upset or hurt himself or anyone else.

Dean stands up and begins pacing a few feet away then back, vigorously shaking his hands at his sides, alternating between nodding and shaking his head, he mumbles softly to himself as he reviews all the information that Charlie had dictated over the past hour. He stops suddenly, his hands are still shaking but no longer flailing, he bites his thumbnail and stares at Charlie.

She looks up at him; he doesn’t speak yet. She looks from him Cas to Gabe and back to Dean, “What?”

“Kansas City. Why Kansas City? I mean why hasn’t he gone back in like two years?”

Charlie cringes internally; she knew Dean would hone in on anything related to Kansas, she just hoped that she could get away with glossing over all that until after she spoke with Castiel. Of course not, Dean isn’t stupid, he can tell when she’s holding back information. She looks at Gabriel, who gives her a ‘go ahead’ nod. Charlie takes a deep breath and chooses her words carefully.

“Dean, please sit down.” She gently takes his hand, giving him the option to sit by her or by Cas. He pauses, deciding that he needs to be close to Cas for whatever she is about to tell him. He needs Cas’s strength and his warmth.

Dean scoots onto the bench next to Cas, looking at him with worried puppy eyes. Cas tugs him close and wraps one arm around his waist while taking Dean’s hand with his free hand. Cas gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this right now. We can finish all this up another time. It’s been a big day, and you’ve been through so much, already. Wouldn't you like to get some rest? Maybe we can…”

“No, Cas,” Dean gently cuts him off, “I can do this. Yeah, it’s a lot, but it's important. Right? And you know there ain’t no way I could sleep with so much still  _ being kept _ from me.” He gives Charlie a pointed look, “Y’all think I’m too broken to hear the truth. Y’all think I’m stupid, and that you can lie or skip over stuff that you don’t think I need to know… Cas, you keep telling me that I ain’t too broken to get better, that I ain’t as dumb or useless as I thought I was… Now you’re gonna treat me like a stupid kid?” Dean’s chin quivers and his voice is shaky as he digs deep and stands up for himself. “I ain’t… I ain’t stupid, Cas.”

Cas wipes Dean’s wet cheeks with his thumb, “No, you aren’t stupid, or useless, or too broken. Dean, Sweetheart, you are an amazing man. Strong and beautiful and smart. You can do anything you put your mind to, your incredibly fearless when you want something. If you say you can handle the rest of the information that Charlie has for us, I believe you.”

Dean breathes in a shaky breath and hugs Cas, “Thank you, Cas.”

Cas holds him tightly, bringing his hand up to the back of Dean’s head, gently scratching. Absorbing Dean’s warmth, his tears, his fear; sending over his love and strength, wanting to keep Dean safe but needing to let him stand on his own at the same time. Cas’s internal battle is excruciating; he is so proud of Dean but afraid for him to be hurt. Cas holds on until Dean pulls away.

Sittin up, Dean wipes his face with his sleeve. Cas discretely wipes his face and takes a long draw off his beer, giving Gabe a look that says ‘shut-up, and thank you for being here.’

“Okay, Charlie. What’s the deal with KC?” Dean leans forward, resting on his elbows with his hands folded together on the table, intent on learning the truth.

Charlie knows he means business. She gives him a tight-lipped nod and begins.

“Alright. So, I explained already about Crowley’s partnerships in several businesses that headquarter in that part of the country, but have subsidiaries and connections all over the US plus internationally. The thing is that his last visit was to his business partner’s funeral. He hasn’t been back because of the circumstances around the CEO’s death were also the cause of the take-down of several organizations AND a lot of political upheaval. Several prominent people; businessmen, politicians, government authorities… they were all brought to their knees and held accountable for their actions, or inactions. I was amazed how far the case reached. Not just in Kansas but nationally, all the way up to DC!” She pauses and takes a drink.

Dean stares, waiting, still full of questions. None of this explained that asshole’s connection to him, or why he reacted the way he did.

“Dean, I’m so glad you were sent to the Ranch. I’m so happy you got out.”

“What?” He’s stunned, “Wait, out? I never told you…”

“No. YOU didn’t. The terrible things that you refused to tell me, the things that you tried to hide from me when we were kids. Dean, I found it. I found it all.  There are records, and lists, and oh god-above, the pictures and the details and how it was worded… like describing cattle for sale. There were so many kids being hurt and worse.”

Dean can’t breathe, he can’t move. Charlie knows, she knows what he did, what he was. Did she see pictures of him? Were there descriptions of what he did?

“Dean, Honey, breathe. Cas? Do I continue? Should I stop?” Charlie looks to Cas for help.

Cas rubs small comforting circles on Dean’s back and strokes his arm, “Dean, you need to hear the rest. You can do this. The hard part is over. Charlie promised good news, remember?”

Dean gasps and chokes on his spit, he looks up at Cas, “Cas? Cas, she knows what I did.” He whispers, tears tracing down his face and dripping off his chin.

“Yes, she does. She knows what _they did to you_. You were a victim. You didn’t _do_ anything wrong. The things that were done to you were not your fault. _None_ _of it was your fault_. Charlie still loves you, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head, “Hhh - How can she?”

“Because I never stopped and never will.” Charlie reaches to hold his shaking clenched fists. “Dean, I knew you went through hell before you came to Texas. Now, I’ve had a glimpse behind the curtain, that’s all. I knew the day I met you that you were going to be my best friend, that has never changed.”

“Really? Even after… God, Charlie, the things…” Dean stammers and tries to complete a sentence.

Charlie moves to his side of the booth, kneeling on the bench and hugging him tightly.  “Those _things_ aren’t _you_. They were done _to_ _you_. You are my Angel, Dean. My forever friend. I love you so much.”

Dean sobs out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan. He is encircled by the two people he loves in this world. They both hold him tight between them. He feels crushed and suffocated in the best possible way; he has never felt this before, it’s overwhelming and wonderful, and he never wants it to go away.

Charlie releases him and moves back to her seat. Cas doesn’t let go, he leans his face against Dean’s shoulder and continues to trace his thumb along Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean misses the warmth and comfort of Charlie but melts into the touch of Cas. He is exhausted, emotionally and physically. Today has been long and arduous; even with the moments of fun during his visit to the barber, and shopping; even with the sex and the perfect cocoon of all things Cas during their short nap. This long day started at the hospital, with him being reminded of how broken he is, and now he’s being bombarded with factual information about his own past, from the one person he never wanted to find out about his monsters.

“Can you get to the good news part now?” Gabe speaks up, a little uncomfortable and ready for the touchy-feely emotional display to be over. He wants the hurtful, sad part to get wrapped up so the better part of the story can be unveiled. He and Charlie had worked hard to uncover so much information and so far none of the good stuff, the ‘Let’s kill Hitler’ stuff has made it to the surface.

“What good news?” Dean mumbled.

“Tell him, Charlie.” Gabe pushed.

“Right.” Charlie settles in and smiles. She hopes that Dean feels the same way about what she and Gabriel consider good news.

“The CEO, the partner that Crowley worked with in so many avenues. That man who died and whose hidden business secrets brought down so many… That  _ monster _ who tortured and used and sold children. Dean, he was  _ your _ monster, your nightmare, your foster parent.”

Dean's mouth flaps wordlessly, and his eyes are as big as saucers, his hand flies to his mouth of its own volition. He pants, gasping for each breath.

“Dean. Alastair Rolston is dead. His empire has been destroyed, His business partners, associates, customers, even his family, they have all been exposed. Many have been imprisoned, and many more are facing criminal charges.”

“The… the kids?’ Dean barely whispers through his fingers.

“Oh, sweety. So many kids have been rescued, placed in safe homes. There is a huge international watch for those were sent overseas. All the biggies, FBI, CIA, NSA, International Intelligence agencies and even the UN all have teams focusing on this and have buckled down on the worldwide issue of missing children.  Dean, I’m afraid that not all will have happy endings. But, so many will. All of the kids that were still being held in any of the locations associated with the subsidiaries or the parent companies have been found and are under care. It has all been shut down, at least all the parts of this huge machine that are on US soil. No more kids will have to go through that hell. There is even a big push for updating laws and policies that deal with childcare, fostering and other areas around child and teen orphan care.”

Dean is completely overwhelmed. He doesn’t know how to react or what to say. He forces his gaze off Charlie to look at Cas.

“I’m … gonna be sick.”

Cas escorts him to the men’s room. Dean barely makes it to a stall before he collapses and expels his entire dinner; he continues until he is dry heaving and sobbing. He hurts all over, and can’t wrap his head around what Charlie said. The room echoes as he wretches.

Cas flushes the toilet several times and cleans Dean up each time he stops to catch his breath. He holds Dean while he cries, gets him water from the sink in the cup of his hands, and wet paper towels to cool his head and neck. Cas hums and whispers words of love and support and encouragement. He kisses Dean’s sweaty temple and massages his shoulders. When Dean finally quits having spasms and is able to try and stand, Cas helps him to his feet and hugs him until he stops shaking enough to walk.

More than once the door opens, but the intruding customers hear the violent vomiting and leave quickly. Ellen pops her head in at some point to check on them, and Cas lets her know that he has it under control.

When Dean is stable enough to leave the toilets, they learn that Ellen has stood guard at the door to calm the customers and direct them to the staff men’s room. She pets the side of Dean’s head and kisses his cheek. “You’re going to be alright, Dean.” She informs him, very matter of fact.

He isn’t sure if she means because he just puked or if she knows more, right now he doesn’t care. He leans into her and hugs her. ‘ _ This has to be what it’s like to have a real mom. _ ’

“Awe, hon.” She rubs his back. He finally steps back, and she takes his face in her hands. “You are loved, my precious boy. Never forget that.”

He smiles sadly, “Thanks, Ellen.”

Cas leads him back to their booth.

Dean grabs Charlie and hugs her tight. “Thank you.” He releases her and turns to Cas. “I’m ready to go home, now.”

Dean climbs into bed and curls up against Cas. He slips his hand under Cas’s shirt and relaxes at the touch. This movement, this feeling has become a sort of security with Dean; there is no sexual intention in the contact. Sometimes, Dean just needs to trace his fingers across the skin at Cas’s hips or lower back to gain a sense of relief and calm; his favorite though is to lay his hand on Cas’s chest where he can feel his heartbeat.

“I love you, Cas.”

I love you, too, Dean. Forever.”

Dean leans up and kisses him; it’s soft and sleepy, he snuggles back into Cas’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Cas?”

“Yea, Babe?” Cas combs his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Can we stay in bed till we have to leave tomorrow?”

“We’ll do whatever you want tomorrow. Go to sleep, now, Sweetheart.”

“Mmmkay,” Dean yawns and drifts into a dreamless sleep.


	38. Family Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys deal with Dean's return to the Center.

Cas wakes up earlier than he planned but his bladder won't let him lay there any longer. He takes care of his toilet needs, brushes his teeth and grabs a couple of juice bottles from the mini-fridge. He carefully gets back under the covers and snuggles close to Dean, not allowing himself to think about later - about taking Dean back to the Center.  Dean doesn’t stir as Cas wiggles and wraps his limbs around him. Cas lays his head on Dean’s chest and listens to his steady, strong heartbeat until he falls back to sleep. 

A little while later, Dean is scrambling to get untangled and running to the bathroom. He leans his palm against the wall as he relieves himself. Glancing at the clock, he realizes that he has slept for almost ten hours straight. The last thing he remembers is hearing Cas say he loves him. Dean smiles as he flushes the toilet. Cas said forever, he said he loves Dean  _ FOREVER _ .  Dean brushes his teeth, drooling toothpaste foam because he can’t stop smiling. 

He peeks out the bathroom door and sees Cas laying on his back with his hands behind his head. Dean takes a running leap and lands on the bed next to Cas. He climbs on top of him and excitedly kisses him, pinning Cas’s arms in place and kissing him over and over, giggling and nibbling along his neck. Dean presses his weight from hips to lips against Cas. 

“Forever,” Dean mumbles when he sucks Cas’s earlobe.

Cas groans and tries to keep up with Dean, kissing and moaning, wanting to reach out and touch. “Forever.” Cas growls and bites down on Dean’s shoulder. He squirms and tries to rut up against Dean to find some much needed friction. “Dean,” he pleads, “need to touch you.”

Dean sits up, straddling Cas, and pulls off his t-shirt. Immediately, he feels Cas’s hands on him, pulling him back down, kissing him passionately.  He is still crouched on his knees, bent double to reach Cas’s mouth with his. His chest pressing against Cas while his ass is up in the air. 

Cas’s hands are everywhere at once. He slips one hand under the elastic of Dean’s Batman underwear, toying with his crack, rubbing almost to his hole then back up. He feels a sense of power when Dean drops his chest as much as he can and tilts his ass, inviting Cas to continue. Cas’s finger circles his hole and Dean groans out a needy sound that is close to a purr.

“Please,” Dean begs as he slowly slides off Cas.

Cas strips Dean of his only remaining garment, then removes his own t-shirt and sleeping pants. He trails his fingers up Dean’s thighs, across his ass and up his spine, causing  him to shiver and make the most tantalizing pornagraphic sounds. Cas grabs the lube and lays it on the bed next to Dean. He continues his barely-there touches, watching Dean tremble and moan.

Dean spreads his knees more, taking a deep breath and letting it all out as he arches his back until his chest is pressed against the mattress. His arms are flat on the bed with his hands next to his knees.  His face is turned towards Cas, watching as the muscles in his boyfriend’s torso ripple with each movement. He remembers this position because it is always his favorite. He knows that this position will make Cas happy and give him full access and the best view of his hole and genitals. There are no monsters, the monster is dead. There is only Cas and Cas’s hands and mouth are touching him. His breath is warm on Dean’s skin, his teeth are hard and the pressure is perfect as Cas nips and teases. Dean can’t help the sounds coming out of his mouth and he doesn’t care, or want to stop. He wants Cas to know how good he feels. He listens to the sounds and the broken sentences Cas attempts. Dean’s dick is hard and he knows he’s dripping precum, his cock twitching each time Cas traces his fingers or mouth near his anxious awaiting hole.

Cas’s breath is hot over Dean’s perineum as he licks a stripe from his sack up, across his hole, continuing up his spine, drooling and moaning until he reaches Dean’s neck. He leans down and captures Dean’s mouth, as Dean relaxes his entire body, sinking to his fullest capability, widening his knees slightly and presenting his ass. Cas’s hand is on his lower back so he feels the movement and lets out a shaky breath. ‘Fuuuck.. Dean” 

Dean hears the cap of the lube pop open and he sighs contentedly, ‘ _ finally _ .’

“Green, Cas, for the love of … Green.” he mumbles into Cas’s mouth. Dean feels Cas smile and hears his soft laugh. 

Cas moves, gently biting along Dean’s back until he reaches his firm, round ass.  He dribbles lube on his fingers and rubs them together to warm it before sliding one finger in all the way. Dean is so relaxed that he feels no resistance. Cas has to grip the base of his own cock so he doesn’t come at the sight of his finger, then two, disappearing into Dean. He grunts as he fingers Dean open, pumping and twisting and stretching. 

“Fuck, you’re s’beautiful - ugh.. shit…” He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, he adds a third finger and tightens his grip on his cock, because “Goddamn, Baby…” 

“Green! Cas. Please!” Dean begs, crying out and pushing back against Cas’s fingers. 

Cas pulls out his fingers, adding more lube to his slick hand, spreading it on his achingly hard dick. He hisses at the touch, he’s afraid he may come before he gets inside Dean.

“Augh, fuck, I’m so fuckin close.” Cas breaches Dean’s opening and sinks in fully in one movement. 

Dean goans and revels in the sensation.

Cas cries out, he clinghes his teeth and digs his fingers into Dean’s hips. Panting, he wills himself not to cum, he holds still, pressing hard against Dean, trying to gain some assemblance of control over his own body.  When he calms enough to move at all, he leans down and kisses Dean’s shoulder blade.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean whispers.

“Mmm, how do you do this to me? I nearly came while prepping you. I’m not going to last any time at all. So, I’m going to fuck you fast and hard, then I want to suck you dry. Do you think you can keep from coming while I fuck you?” Cas’s speech is rushed and he’s panting, Dean can tell he’s holding on by a thread. 

“Oh, Jesus, Cas. You’re so fuckin perfect. Yes, Yes! I can do that. Now, move! I want to feel you cum in me. I want to feel you for fucking days.”

Cas raises up and slowly pulls out, until just the tip is inside Dean. He watches his cock slide in and out a few times before it’s too much and his body takes over for his brain. He speeds up and slams into Dean with a relentless rhythm, throwing his head back he grits his teeth and snarls, hissing and grunting as he fights his climax as long as he can. 

Dean moans with every breath that as punches out of him. He keeps his body relaxed and his mind focused on the sounds coming from Cas.  He revels in the sounds of skin on skin, the perfect pressure of Cas’s cock stretching him, the feel of Cas’s hipbones crashing against his ass, Cas’s fingers digging into his waist and hips. Everything hurts just right. He wants Cas to mark him with cum and bruises that he can take with him when he goes back… no, right now is all that matters.

“Harder,” he begs.

Cas’s grip intensifies and he slams his hips against Dean’s body, pulling them together. His rhythm stutters and he pushes in as deep as possible, holding Dean tight against him as he cries out and empties inside him. He leans forward and bites Dean’s neck as he makes a few final short thrusts. Dean tightens his muscles and milks Cas, greedy for every drop.

Cas slowly rises off Dean and pulls out, sinking his thumb into Dean’s filled hole while he rolls Dean onto his back. As Cas’s thumb circles in his tender hole, Dean hums. 

“Want me to..”

“Shh, my perfect, beautiful boy.” Cas lays down and shuffles his head between Dean’s knees. “You didn’t come. You’re amazing.” Cas licks the precum from the tip of Dean’s cock, his tongue teases around the head, he licks all around the shaft and finally wraps his lips around the crown and sucks as he slips three fingers in Dean’s hole. 

Dean hisses and shudders, his hips quiver with the need to fuck into his boyfriend's mouth.  

Cas slides a hand up Dean’s belly and chest, urging him to readjust and do what feels right. Dean rolls his spine and carefully gets his arms under him for support. All the while, Cas is sucking, licking and fingering him. 

“Umf… fuck, Cas,” He finally manages to get himself up and grabs the headboard for support.

Cas hums and presses his fingers against Dean’s prostate.

“Jesus!” Dean reacts with a thrust down into Cas’s mouth. Cas moans and when Dean pulls back, he does it again.

“Oh, God! Cas, okay. I get it!” Dean begins to fuck Cas’s face, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on not choking him. 

Cas presses his thumb against Dean’s perineum and his fingers against his prostate. Dean’s hips automatically jerk down, he feels the head of his dick enter Cas’s throat. Cas swallows and Dean understands what he wants. He makes a slight adjustment to his position and begins to face fuck Cas in ernest. 

Cas hums and slides his fingers in time with Dean’s movements, swallowing and gasping and drooling, his eyes watering. It’s perfect. Cas’s cum drips out of Dean’s hole and down his balls and onto Cas. Cas brings his other hand up to cup Dean’s sack, pulling and squeezing, pinching between his balls. He feels them tighten and draw up, and he pinches Dean’s cock while Dean continues to grind down into him. 

“Ow, Cas, please…”

Cas laughs a growly sound and lets go of his cock, reaching both hands up to cup his ass, forcing Dean deep into his throat.

Dean cums hard, down Cas’s throat. Cas swallows all he can, gagging when Dean pulls back. He holds on and sucks, lip-covered teeth pressing as hard as he dares, pulling out every last drop. He kisses and licks the tip before Dean falls to his side. 

“Holy Shit, Cas.’ Dean manages between hard panting breaths. 

Cas rolls to his side and raises his head to look into Dean’s eyes. “Just keeping my promise.” His voice low and rough from the abuse, he smiles his big toothy grin, “To fuck you then suck you dry.” He kisses Dean, sharing the taste of cum on his tongue. “You want to sleep or clean up?”

Dean pulls him close and wraps his arm and leg over Cas, “I don't want to sleep. I want to be awake with you. I what to touch you and kiss you and hear your voice and your heartbeat.” His eyes well up, “I don’t want to cry, I want to laugh with you.” He looks up at the ceiling then back to Cas, “I stayed with you, Cas. I stayed here the whole time. It was perfect.”

Cas combs his fingers through Dean’s short hair, he kind of misses the feel of being able to grip his hair, but this style looks so good, “It’s okay if you cry.” He kisses the tip of Dean’s nose, “How about we shower then relax in the hot tub for a bit?” Dean nods.

“Yeah?” Cas smiles.

“Yeah.” Dean grins.

Dean refuses to cry while he packs his bag. He jokes with Cas, they laugh and tease, and kiss a lot. He only packs his new, unopened plain white underwear and socks. He pics a few short sleeve t-shirts and a couple of the softest long sleeve Henleys, two pair of jeans and two pair of sweats. Dean grabs his toiletries bag that Cas picked out for him, and makes sure that the small bottle of Cas’s body wash is in there. He probably won't use it, but he wants to have it so he can always have that scent with him. Just as he is zipping up his duffle bag, Cas brings him his art case. 

Dean breaks down.

Cas holds him while he cries.

They sit on the couch, cuddled together and listen to music. They make out, petting and resisting the sound of Cas’s reminder alarm. 

“I don’t wanna go.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“But…”

“But, we gave our word.”

Dean nods and sinks into Cas’s arms, ‘ _ Just a few more minutes. _ ’

“You’ll be fine. You’re so much better, stronger than you were before. You’ll get to see your friends, and I’ll be there for art classes and every weekend. You have some much to tell Eleanor and Dr. Fritz. Plus, Eleanor said you can call me, remember?”

“Six months, Cas.” Dean whines, running his hand up under Cas’s shirt so he can feel his body heat and his heart beating.

“Yeah, I know. So you need to figure out where we’re going on our vacation in May. Right?  We’re going to rent whatever car you want and going on a road trip.”

“Yea, I remember. That’s so far away.”

“Baby, you promised.” Cas’s heart breaks a little more. Being apart is going to be harder than he ever imagined. 

“Right.” Dean gulps and sits up, “Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year’s. St. Patricks. Easter.”

“Don’t forget Valentine’s Day! And…”

“And?”

“Your Birthday.”

“My birthday? That’s not a holiday.”

“It is as far as I’m concerned.”

“I never celebrate my birthday, Cas. It’s not important, nothing to worry about.”

Cas faces him and holds Dean’s face in his hands, “The day you came into this world is  _ the  _ most important day. I will forever celebrate that day with reverence, and pie, and sex with the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Do you even know what day it is?”

“Seriously?” Cas feigns a shock to his heart, “You doubt me?”

Dean laugus and pokes Cas’s ribs, “Yeah, well, I never told you.”

“No, YOU didn’t.” Cas sits up, “Dean MIchael Winchester,” he sasses, “ born January 24th, 19… ugh, so not happy that you’re 2 years younger than me.” he giggles.  “Mother, Mary Elizabeth Campbell Winchester. Father John Henry Winchester. And we can never forget little Sammy, Samuel James Winchester, forever in our hearts.” 

“Cas,” Dean bites his lip and blinks rapidly, refusing to cry again, “How?”

Cas smiles, “Eleanor gave me your file, well the files for everyone in the class, actually. But, I only made a copy of yours.” He grimaces at the admission of theft. 

“You copied my file? You remember my birthday? And my parents and brother - who all died when I was four. You memorized all that?”

“I kinda got a little obsessed with learning everything I could about you. Especially after that session when you grabbed my dick.” Cas smirks.

“Oh, shit,” Dean hides his face in his hands. 

“Come on, Baby. Let’s do this. Today is the big monthly Family Day so there will be all kinds of snacks and stuff. I bet that little old lady from the church made her pecan pie.”

“That’s cheating! Using her pie as a weapon!”

The staff at the Center works hard to make the monthly Family Day Sunday event pleasant for everyone. The church next door lets them use their parking lot, loaning them their golf carts for shuttling visitors and volunteers work the parking areas. The local Ladies’ Auxiliary and the Scouts pitch in with everything from decorations to baked goods to clean up.  Many of the patients who don’t have family to visit them, have made friends with some of the Ladies Auxiliary members and have an outlet to talk or play games, or simply eat lunch with someone outside the Center staff. 

Family Day and the seasonal festivals that the Center hosts are all ways to encourage comfortable environments to open teachable moments. Having the Scouts working alongside the staff and patients is a nonthreatening way to show the youth that even though these patients suffer mental illness, they are still people and deserving of care and respect. The older Scouts are knowledgeable and helpful, where the younger kids are innocent and show love and kindness as only a child can. 

The staff and the Board understand the importance of each of these interactions. Mental Health is such a taboo topic, and many people are afraid or hesitant to have any interaction with those who work in the field or more importantly with patients undergoing treatment. Safe boundaries are always carefully and discretely maintained. The local police are invited, both in uniform and plain- clothedsed, as another buffer to make sure all involved are kept safe.  Everything about each event is to help boost awareness and centers around learning and teaching. All the games and music and festivities are just a background for good old fashioned exposure therapy and experiential learning. The Board wants the patients to feel a part of the community and for the community to embrace the Center for the work to which they are dedicated and for the good that they can do by working together. Besides, without the support and charity of the locals, the Center would struggle to keep its doors open. 

Cas parks in the church lot and they walk down the sidewalk toward the Center.

Dean pushes Cas into the alley next to the last row of houses. 

“Dean, what are…”

Dean cuts him off with a kiss. He wraps one arm around Cas’s waist and the other hand around his neck. Cas returns the hold, bringing both arms up behind Dean’s back and gripping his shoulders. The kiss is frantic, deep, messy. Dean pours his pent up energy into it.

They break for air and Cas steps back, “I’m definitely not complaining, but what was that for?”

Dean rubs his thumb over Cas’s hipbone, “I kinda feel like… ya know… the last desperate act of a condemned man, and all that.”

“Oh, Baby, you’re not… It’s okay, I understand.” Cas doesn’t say more. He doesn’t say how much he’ll miss Dean or how empty his house and his bed are going to be. He doesn’t say how he is afraid that he will cry himself to sleep, or forget to eat. But he did make a promise not to fall back in to the bottle when he gets sad or lonely. He swore to Dean that he will paint or draw something every day and will not drink in excess, that he will continue to take his daily runs and will look into finding another art class to teach. 

Cas takes Dean’s hand and leads him through the Center gates. They are greeted by a cheerful Girl Scout and directed to the food tent. 

“Dean!”

Cas and Dean both turn to see who is yelling at him. Aimee is tugging Ash along behind her, they are followed by Ed and Harry. 

“See! I told you I saw him!” She announces proudly. 

“Dude, your hair!” Ash grimaces at Dean’s very short style.

“Shut up, I like it, so does Cas.”

Aimee hugs Cas and then Dean. When Dean doesn’t flinch away, Aimee smiles and pats his arm. 

“It’s good to see you,” Ed claps him on the shoulder. Harry waves and gives a small smile. 

Cas insists that Dean eat, even though he’s excited to see his friends. They skipped breakfast, only having juice and coffee, filling the time with messing around instead of eating food.

After they finish lunch, the group plays a few games on the lawn then goes inside to relax and talk in the day room. 

Cas stays through dinner. 

He stays through TV time, sitting next to Dean, holding hands while two patients fought over the remote. 

He stays until Dean is falling asleep against him as they sit on his small bed. 

Cas kisses Dean good night and tucks him in bed. He watches him sleep for a few minutes before he finally leaves for home.

Driving home, Cas watches his speed and obeys the traffic laws. 

Cas crawls into his big soft empty bed, which still smells of Dean, crying himself to sleep.


	39. Giving Thanks, Giving Up, Giving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean isn't happy to be back at the Center, but it's almost Thanksgiving which means a long weekend with Cas.  
> Dean marks the passage of time on his calendar, weeks feel like months. The weather plays havoc with his mood, Texas winters are mostly dark and dreary, not like the pretty winters he remembers from childhood.

Dean pouts all day on Monday.

Tuesday morning, he sits at breakfast and squishes his scrambled eggs. Garth and Aimee are talking animatedly about something but he hasn’t really been paying attention.

“How can you not be excited, Dean?” Aimee finally gets his attention.

“Huh? About what?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah, so?” He stirs his mangled eggs accidentally flicks some off his plate when he realizes and jerks his head up to look at the events calendar on the large cork board.

“It’s Tuesday!” He jumps up, but quickly sits back down and begins to eat his cooled breakfast. “Cas’ll be pissed if I don’t eat.” He informs his friends when they shoot him questioning looks.

Dean greets Cas at the front door. Bouncing on his toes as Cas signs in and goes through the usual security check.

“Come on, come on, come on…” he chants quietly.

He nearly tackles Cas when he comes through the interior set of doors. Dean wraps his arms around his boyfriend, essentially trapping Cas’s arms to his sides, still holding his bags.

“I missed you! I miss you! I’m so happy to see you!” He says between kisses. Cas kisses him back, smiling and laughing at Dean’s excitement.

“I’ve missed you, too, Dean. Can I please have the use of my arms now?”

Dean releases Cas, taking one of his bags and lacing their fingers together, he can’t stop touching Cas. They walk together to the classroom.

Their little make-out session is interrupted when the other patients file into the classroom. Everyone is excited for art class this week since last weeks was canceled due to Cas and Dean’s little vacation.

“Alright. Everyone, please, take your seats and let’s get started.”  Cas announces to the room. He smacks Dean’s butt and pushes him toward his seat.

Art class goes well, Dean spills paint on his t-shirt, but he doesn’t care. Cas is here and that makes everything okay. Besides, a little blue paint never hurt anyone.

* * *

 

“How many days?” Dean asks Harry.

“Nine. Haven't you been paying attention?”

“Only nine days? How’d I miss that?” Dean pulls out his journal and marks off all the days he spent at Cas’s with little red hearts, then puts a line through yesterday. Touching each little box, he counts off the days until Thanksgiving day. Then he draws a little brown cartoon turkey on that day.

“Holy Crap, that’s… awesome.” He smiles and traces his finger over the outline of each box. He leans back in his favorite chair in the day room, right next to the window. “Awesome," he breathes out and watches a Robin happily hopping around on the window seal.

* * *

 

Thursday afternoon is his regular session with Eleanor.

Dean tells her all about the things that happened after he was released from the hospital. He excitedly shares his adventure at Target and picking out clothes and stuff with Cas. He shares details about Scott’s Barber Shop and the delightful old men who told lots of stories. Dean laughs as he tells her about Cas ant the water gun and how Charlie is practically a computer hacker. He starts describing some of the information that Charlie uncovered but stops mid-sentence, and stares at the wall.

“Um, she, uh Charlie, she found pictures. Not just regular pictures but like, the really bad kind. Really bad pictures of me, naked and, and, um…” He wipes his eyes on his sleeve and looks out the window.

“Dean, you’ve done very well today. Do you need to take a break? Shall we end our session for today? Maybe we can pick this up next time after you’ve had a rest.”

Dean nods, he’s tired, this was harder than he thought it would be.

* * *

 

Sunday rolls around and Dean gets an extra special wake up. Cas is sitting next to his bed when he opens his eyes. Dean blinks sleepily and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, “Cas?” he smiles and rolls over, pulling Cas into a hug.

There are no games or a cookout on this Family Day; it’s just a regular Sunday visitation day. That doesn’t stop Cas from making the most of every moment.

They sit with Garth, Ash, Aimee, And Ruby during breakfast, enjoying a wide variety of conversation topics.

The weather is cool but not cold, so Cas and Dean spend the morning strolling around the grounds and gardens on the Center property. They walk together hand-in-hand, talking about nothing important, going quiet every so often and observing the usual city wild-life as squirrels and birds flit around the trees and hedges.

Lunchtime brings them back inside. Joshua, Ed, and Harry join them for the mid-day meal. Cas and Joshua enjoy an in-depth conversation about some poet that Dean’s never heard of, but he smiles watching Cas recite beautiful prose.

After lunch, they snuggle together on the couch in the day room, whispering secrets while Dean’s friends watch a football game. It doesn’t take long for everyone to get bored with football, and they grab four Jenga sets and start a tower building competition on one of the shaky card tables. Just as Dean is stretching to put his final piece on a precarious tower, the orderly announces dinner. He startles at the sound and down comes the entire stack. Cas, Aimee, and Garth pick up all the blocks while Dean sits cross-legged on the floor and pouts about losing. Garth rocks with uncontrollable laughter.

Cas stays for TV time after dinner, the Head Nurse puts the TV on an old black-and-white movie and hides the remote in her pocket, so there are no fights over what will be watched.

Cas walks Dean to his room and kisses him goodnight. They try to keep it as chaste as possible. Thirty minutes later, Cas finally leaves for home.

* * *

 

“CAS!” Dean runs down the stairs. Cas is at the front desk, filling out the visitation papers so he can take Dean home for the long weekend.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Cas!” He jumps up and sits on the tall desktop.

“Get down.” The guard barks. Cas laughs and leans up to kiss Dean, then tugs him off the furniture.

“So, what did you plan? You still keeping it a secret?” Cas asks as he drives out of the parking lot.

“Oh, Cas, I think… I hope you’ll like it. Eleanor was proud of me. I took care of everything and even made all the calls myself.”

“Of course, I’ll like it. You planned it!” Cas smiles and pats Dean’s thigh, “So, you just tell me what I need to do.”

“Okay, first off, we’re going to your house. We have all day to catch up before we need to go anywhere. We don’t need to leave til like five-thirty.”

“Nice.” Cas smirks, “I like the sound of having you to myself all day.”

“Cas,” Dean lowers his voice and reaches across the bench seat, tracing his hand up Cas’s thigh, teasing him by stopping just shy of his dick. “I took a long, hot shower this morning.” He stretches and lets out a little moan, “I washed my hair, all down my chest and abs, and my thighs… mmm,” Dean touches every part of himself as he describes his shower.

“Jesus, Dean…” Cas grunts and adjust himself in his jeans and tugging at his seatbelt.

“Hmm,” Dean relaxes as much as he can in the seat, still bound by the seat belt, and rests his head back against the window. “Mmm, I used your nice body wash and,” he presses his palm on his own dick, “I washed…. thoroughly.” he nearly growls as he cups himself and tightens his ass, lifting slightly off the seat.

Cas swerves to miss the curb, “Fuck, Dean… You can’t do that to me while I’m driving! Holy... “ He stops abruptly at a red light. Cas reaches over to Dean and squeezes the bulge in his pants. “I’ve missed you, Baby. Not being able to fuck you has been torture…”

The light changes and Cas takes off with a jerk, both hands back on the wheel. Luckily for him, traffic is light and he makes it home in record time.

Inside the house, Dean makes a bee-line to the bed, he didn’t bring any bags with him since he has everything he needs here at Cas’s. He has a grip on Cas’s unhooked belt, pulling him along.

Cas spins Dean around to face him and pulls him close, kissing him deeply, one hand on Dean’s ass and the other down the front of his unzipped jeans.

Dean is fighting with the buttons on Cas’s shirt. “Mff… off” he moans into Cas’s mouth. They strip as quickly as possible between the kissing and touching. Neither able to keep from mouthing at each new expanse of bare skin.

Cas reaches down between Dean’s butt cheeks and is surprised by the slight looseness and warm lubed wetness.

“Dean, Baby… mmmff fuck... did you?”

“It was a very thorough shower, Cas.” Dean crawls onto the bed, shaking his ass at Cas, “I stole some lube packets from the infirmary… Didn’t want to waste any time. I need you, now, Cas.”

Cas growls deep in his chest and grabs the lube. He starts to finger Dean to make sure he’s not going to hurt him.

“No, please, I need your cock, need to feel it… all of it. Please… I got up to four… please.” he begs, canting his ass toward Cas, whimpering with need.

Cas coats his cock with his lube covered hand and jacks it a couple of times while he rubs the thumb if his other hand in and out of Dean’s hole. He presses the head against Dean’s slick hole and …

“Yes!” Dean pushes back against Cas.

“Ahhhh…” Cas feels almost light headed when his cock breaches that perfect ring of muscle. He slowly works his way in and out, pushing deeper and deeper until he bottoms out. He loves to hear the sounds that Dean makes, although, that’s the main reason they can’t fuck at the Center - Dean moans and screams like a damn porn star.

Dean bends his arms and rests on his elbows, giving Cas a better angle, he presses his forehead into the sheets.

“You didn’t make your bed,” He muses, yelping when Cas slaps his ass.

“Like you care,” Cas laughs, rubbing the pink handprint. ‘ _Fuck that looks pretty_.’

“Cas, move… fuck me good, hard, and…”

“And what, Babe?” Cas grunts out as he pulls out and slams into Dean.

“Mark me up.” Dean’s face feels too hot, but he wants this so bad, “Leave your finger marks,  and bites, hickeys…” ‘ _God, he gonna think I’m a freak_.’  Dean clears his throat, “Unless you don’t… If you think…”

Cas answers with a deep groan, gripping Dean’s waist and fucking him hard and fast. Dean hisses in a breath and exhales what sounds almost like ‘Yes, Angel‘ before he begins singing a litany of “ah, ah, ah,” with each of Cas’s thrusts.  He pushes Dean flat into the bed, pounding him into the mattress, licking and biting his back, leaving his marks on his shoulder blades. Dean cries out with the mixture of pain and pleasure, unable to form words. Cas covers old scars with fresh love bites and watches as goosebumps raise across Dean’s skin when he blows a cool breath over the heated marks. He reaches under Dean’s armpits and grabs his shoulders, anchoring himself as he fucks him. He sees Dean squeeze his eyes shut and fists grip into the bed sheets as though he is trying to hold on to this moment forever. The feel of a racing pulse under his fingers and Cas grips tighter, leaving little indents. He hears Dean's quick breathes become pants and relishes the warm of his breath on his hand as he turns his face and pulls him into a desperate kiss. Feeling his balls tighten Cas raises up, one hand on Dean’s back, he pulls out and cums all over his hickeys, scratches and teeth marks.

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean mumbles into the mattress.

Cas flops down on the bed next to Dean, panting and smiling, unable to speak yet.

“That  was…. That….” Cas tries, but he’s still too out of breath.

“Perfect!” Dean supplies.

Cas chuckles and closes his eyes, “Yeah, it was amazing.” He mumbles, still high from his climax,

Dean leans over and kisses Casls cheek.

“Hey, no fair, you’re cum free!” He glances down his boyfriend’s body, “You jerk, I’m covered front and back and,” He scratches his head, “ew, you got it in my hair!” He laughs, Cas lets out a contented sigh.

“Cas, my dicks stuck to my stomach and your cum is drippin’ down my sides…”

Cas rolls off the bed, thumping Dean insole as he passes. He starts the shower, tosses a towel to Dean and grabs new sheets.

“You get to make the bed after we shower. I did all the work.” He sticks his tongue out at Dean and swats his bare ass as he steps into the shower.

All warm skin and smelling clean, they snuggle into the fresh sheets and nap for the next couple of hours. Then they spend the afternoon puttering, just being together. Cas helps Dean trim his facial hair, still digging the light beard look. He straddles Dean’s lap while shaving his neck, kissing the freshly shorn skin.

They spend an hour practically playing dress up as they help each other pick out what to wear.  Dean keeps getting distracted by Cas’s ass in various styles of jeans.

Dean still hasn't disclosed where they’re going for dinner; he’s loving the fact that he has this little surprise planned.

“Baby, it’s almost time to go. Are you going to clue me in? I have to drive after all.”

Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s neck. “Nope and nope. I said that I made arrangements.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means that we need to get up to the driveway. I ordered - scheduled? Whatever, got us an Uber.” Dean smiles proudly, leading Cas by the hand.

“Dean, Baby. You did that, yourself?”

“Yep! The guy thought it was weird that I was calling from somebody else's app, but I just told him my phone was broke. Sorry, I lied.”

Cas is kissing him when the car arrives.

* * *

 

Cas laughs a full belly laugh when they pull into Harvelle’s lot. Dean glares at him, frowning.

“Sorry, Babe, but they’re closed. I thought…”

“Fuck you! I told you that I took care of everything, You think I don’t know the restaurant is closed - _to the fucking public_ \- tonight?” He looks from Cas to the driver, “ I just text you when we’re ready to leave, right?”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

“Get out of the damn car, Cas.” Dean gets out on his side and shuts the door on whatever Cas is trying to say.

Cas stands, guiltily silent, as the car drives away. He stares at Dean’s back.

“Do you think I’m stupid, Cas?” Dean asks quietly, no anger in his voice, only sadness.

Shame and self-hatred course through Cas’s veins. “Not at all, Dean.” He answers, disgraced by his earlier smugness and judgment of Dean.

“Don’t you?”

“Dean, no. I don’t think that at all.”

“But you thought I would bring you to a closed restaurant. I told you that I made arrangements, made calls and all that stuff. I wanted to surprise you, and show you that I can be responsible.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings. I’m sorry I laughed, and you have definitely surprised me. I’m very interested to see what you have planned for us.” He raised his hand, and paused near Dean’s cheek, “May I?”

Dean takes a shaky breath and steps into Cas’s reach, Cas wipes the tears from Dean’s cheeks and softly kisses him.

“God, I love you,” Cas whispers and leans their foreheads together, “so much. Baby, when I cause you pain, I feel it inside me - like a hot blade in my gut. Anytime you hurt, I feel like I’m gonna bleed-out or my heart will just stop beating.” Cas huffs, “You’d think that would teach me not to hurt you, but it seems I’m slow study.”

Dean closes the gap and captures Cas’s mouth, and they kiss until they’re both drowning and desperate for oxygen.

“Hey!”

They both jump and turn toward the door of Harvelle’s.

“Y’all planning on gettin’ arrested for public indecency or are you gonna get your butts in here before the food gets cold?” Ellen scolds them.

Cas is floored when he walks inside. He had no idea what to expect, but this was completely off his radar.

Ellen puts on a Thanksgiving feast for her staff, their families, and extends the invitation to the homeless in the area. Cas learns that she offers those who are in need, a place to shower and a fresh set of clothes. (She picks things up at the Goodwill all year.) Ellen closes Harvelle’s the day before and after Thanksgiving, preparing meals and a warm place to sit on these cold days. She also invites the local social workers who give free advice and assistance to any who accept.

Cas tears up and hugs Ellen tightly, “Why haven’t you ever said anything?”

“Cas, hon, this is just a little bit of me trying to give back to a community that has supported my old bar for the last thirty-some-odd years. Son, I do this for them.” She gestures to the room full of people.

“Ellen, I know this must be a strain on your income. Please, please let me help you in that area. It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, you sweet boy.” Ellen pats Cas’s cheek, “Eat now, we can talk business later. Tonight is for celebrating with friends, old and new.”

* * *

 

Dean and Cas both sleep late Friday morning. The majority of the day is taken up with old movies and trivia battles, mostly about the Land of Oz, which turns into a tickle fight that lasts until Cas falls off the couch and breaks the leg of the coffee table.

They have plans to hike through the local trails on Saturday but it’s pouring rain and cold when they wake up. Dean decides that it was meant to be and the day would be better spent in bed together… neither are disappointed by the change in plans.

Gabe is surprised when they join him for a late breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and sausage on Sunday morning.

Dean hisses when he takes his seat at the table.

“I didn’t figure you boys would go hiking in that weather yesterday,” Gabe mentions a the sight of Dean’s obviously sore muscles.

“We didn't, we stayed in yesterday,” Cas supplies with a suggestive grin and a wink at Dean.  

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Gabe grumbles, “I’m so glad you don’t reside in the house with me. Aaaaand, nooo, I do not need any details, thank you very much.”

* * *

 

The next few weeks fall into a routine for Dean.

Sunday is visitation, and Cas spends most of the day at the Center. He and Dean even begin to pitch in and assist with the different areas that the staff need volunteers.

Monday is a free day; there are no regularly scheduled sessions or appointments. Dean is free to wander around or spend time in the day room.  He typically finds a spot to work on his art projects.

Tuesdays are Dean’s favorite, because its Art class day. Cas arrives right after breakfast and they sneak off to make-out or sometimes just snuggle in Dean’s room before class starts. After class, a few of the others join them to work a little longer on their projects or practice new techniques. Then it's lunchtime; Cas always stays for lunch. Tuesday afternoon is a new shared session for Dean and Cas to consult with Dr. Fritz. These sessions aren’t always the most fun or happiest part of the day, but it does allow for a deeper level of discussion around their relationship, Dean’s triggers and history, as well as Cas’s insecurities. Cas is doing well opening up and being honest about his own fears, baggage, thoughts, and dreams. Sometimes it’s a screaming match, other times there are tears, but always these sessions are a time of learning and growing for both men.

Cas usually stays for dinner on Tuesday and unless one or both is too tired, he stays until lights out. The other factor lately is the oncoming winter weather, night time brings a drop in temperature and can develop dangerous driving conditions.

Wednesdays suck. That’s group session day and Dean hates to share in a big group, and he hates listening to everyone else’s whining. Eleanor has a particular glare that she saves just for him during group… he tends to earn that look often. Wednesdays are also medical clinic day. Every week there are tests to make sure patients are taking their prescribed medications and _only their_ medications. Lots of people get busted every time for trying to get high on some other nut-job’s pills. Dean stopped jacking other patients K a long time ago; he’s on a straight path out that big door now. The other thing the Doctors always check for is new injuries, cuts or evidence of self-harm. Sometimes it takes a lot of explanation to convince the Doc that those bruises are not from self-harm or abuse… the first week Dean returned to the Center, the Doc insisted that Cas come in for a consult because of the bite marks and bruises; Cas was beet red when he walked out of the consultation and Dean was laughing hysterically. (Dean owed Cas a blowjob for that humiliation, they were late for dinner that evening.)

Thursdays are a clusterfuck of attempted group participation activities. For some reason, the powers-that-be insist on the staff trying every week. It always fails and the patients end up wandering about doing whatever the voices in their cracked-chassis of a brain-pan tell them.

Friday tends to be a toss-up. Field trips, visiting groups of kids, teens, or adults come to spread “Goodwill” and “Cheer”, especially during the holiday season. Sometimes they bring baked good or new games, other times they sing or play handbells or other equally domestically approved entertainment. Friday’s aren’t terrible.

Saturdays are boring, nothing is planned, no one visits, the patients inevitability fight over the remote and board games. Dean prefers to stay in his room on Saturday, writing in his journal or working on an art project or thinking about his next visit with Cas.

* * *

 

Dean marks the passage of time on his calendar, four weeks feels like four months.

Texas winter is not the pretty, white, fluffy snow of the more northern states, nor is it gentle drifts of snow coating the landscape. No, Southern winter is wet, cold, messy slippery and downright hazardous. Everyone seems to catch a cold, and there is always someone at the clinic that slips on the slick path and breaks a leg or arm.  Dean hates Texas winters.    

Early winter is mostly rain, you may need a parka in the morning but by afternoon you’ll be sweating your ass off. For several days in a row, it rains and the temperature drops overnight causing the mud and sludge to freeze; by mid-morning, everything thaws and the sidewalks, parking lots, roads and cars are covered in a nasty, black, grimy mess.  The weatherman is unreliable during the spring or summer, but when it comes to winter, you’re better off looking out the window to check for yourself because the temperature, humidity, and precipitation is a game of chance.

All this rain and unpredictable weather has been playing havoc with Dean’s general mood. He complains that it’s still dark when he has to get up for breakfast, grumbles because he can’t go outside, pouts and curls up in his window seat when it gets dark so early, griping because its dark before dinnertime. He whines that he wants to go to bed because it’s dark and stomps around like a petulant toddler in the dining hall. Eleanor usually lets Dean call Cas for a short chat after dinner to help him keep up his spirits, but Dean is having an especially tough week and the calls to Cas almost make his mood sour even more.

It is two weeks before Christmas and the weather is particularly bad, roads are slushy and there is black ice on the bridges and over hidden culverts. Cas has to cut his Tuesday visit short and leaves for home after lunch. Dean understands, the concept of Cas being safe on his drive makes perfect sense… but somewhere in his broken psyche, Dean takes this a personal slight and his pleasant mood from art class and lunch with Cas quickly fade to black, bickering and snapping at anyone who speaks to him; he yells at Garth and makes him cry. Eleanor reminds him that his attitude and actions have consequences. Dean hates himself for making Garth cry, but the darkness is smothering him and every time he opens his mouth the ugliness pukes out.

Dean is determined to stop hurting those around him today, so he grabs his quilt and bundles up in his window seat, attempting to focus on writing down ideas for Christmas with Cas. The issue is that his dark thoughts keep seeping in and all the joy and color of the holiday is covered in a black ooze of doubt and despair, the “What if’s” take over.

‘ _What if the weather gets worse?’_

_‘What if Cas decides not to make the drive across town?’_

_‘What if he does and has a bad wreck?’_

_‘What if being away from Dean reminds Cas how easy life was before they met?’_

_‘What if Cas decides to spend the holiday with his fun friends?’_

_‘What if Dean fucks up and gets sent to detention or cuts or gets in a fight or worse?’_

_‘What difference does it make? Christmas is a joke and a lie anyway.’_

_‘Cas has better things to do than waste his time babysitting Dean_.’

Dean absentmindedly traces his hand on the page of his journal, over and over, around each finger, back and forth. He had started drawing something… some cartoon something with a Christmas theme, but he doesn’t remember what, that idea is lost. So he twists the point of his pencil on the paper as he tries to push away the blackness and focus on anything, maybe the green of a Christmas tree, or yellow baubles and ribbon, red bows.  He stares at his paper, blinking at the mess he’s made of the pages.

‘ _Did the pen leak? No, wait I’m using a graphite pencil_.’ He looks again at his hand covering the page, confused by the angle of the pencil and the red ink all over the place… “Fuck.”

He looks up and there are no orderlies around him. “Ow… shit… sssss,” his hisses as he pulls the pencil out of the back of his left hand. There is a deep hole between the knuckles of his first two fingers. The blood oozes thickly out of the wound.

Some girl screams.

‘ _Fuck fuck fuck_ ,’ he hides his hand in his shirt and shuts his journal, grabbing his things he runs to his room. He tries to wash away as much of the blood as he can, stripping off his shirt he attempts to rinse it before it stains too bad.

_‘Nobody will believe you didn’t do that on purpose, idiot.’_

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

‘ _So says the crazy, self-harming-lying-loser._ ’

“It was an accident! I didn’t know…”

‘ _Oh, please, you’ve been a cutter since you were eight years old._ ’

“I didn’t cut! This ain’t even _how_ I cut! I don’t stab… three, three always.”

 _‘No matter, you made yourself bleed. You get off on the pain, the blood.. you like it - Freak!_ ’

“No! NO! It’s not like that! Not anymore.”

_‘Why? Because some Prince Charming rescued you?’_

“Cas loves me.”

‘ _Sure, just like all the rest. That’s exactly why he left you here - ALONE.’_

“No! He didn't…. It’s not…”

‘ _Why don’t you just admit it? Useless. Trash. Fuck up. Whore. You’re no good to him. He’s done with you. You’re used up. Broken._ ’

“No! No! No! SHUT UP!! … STOP! …  NO! NO!”

The orderly runs into Dean’s room and kneels down next to him, gently grasping his hands to stop Dean’s repeatedly hitting his temples. Dean curls down and presses his forehead on the floor, screaming, “NO! Shut up! Make it stop!” over and over.

“Shh, hey there buddy?” The man tries to gain Dean’s attention without frightening him further. “Hey,” he pats Dean on the back while Dean rocks, the orderly keeps his other hand positioned loosely around Dean’s wrists to stop his fists from striking and to protect Dean’s face from banging on the floor as he rocks. “Come on, buddy, you gotta stop hitting, now. You need to calm down.”

Dean stills and realizes that his hands are being held, he jerks them away, sitting up, he wraps them around his middle.

“You’re safe. You gonna calm down? No more yelling and hitting?” The orderly calmly asks.

Dean looks from the white scrubs covering the man's knees up to his face.  The man smiles and his big blue eyes widen, his eyebrows disappear behind his blond hair.

“Hi.” He taps Dean on the forearm. “Looks like you got hurt. Is that what upset you? You were pretty wound up and frightened.”

Dean stares at him in confusion, until the throbbing in his left hand reminds him of what happened. He nods at the orderly.

“My name’s Jimmy. I’m new to this ward. I’ve seen you around. I really like your art.” Jimmy smiles as he stands, speaking plainly and calmly, offering his hand to assist Dean.

“Will you let me take you to the infirmary so we can get that hand cleaned up and bandaged?”

Dean tenses up, shaking his head and backing away, out of reach. He can feel the blood dripping off his fingers. ‘ _Shit, this is bad._ ’

“Really? ‘Cuz that’s still bleeding pretty bad. I bet it’s throbbing like a bitch.”

Dean bites his lip and looks at the drops of blood on the floor, on his pants, on the man’s scrubs.

He knows he can’t hide it now, this… Jimmy, knows and will snitch if he doesn’t go with him. Dean nods and takes a step toward Jimmy.


	40. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being on detention just gives Dean more time to think about what he wants to do for Christmas with Cas.  
> Oh, and yeah, more time to spend in sessions with Eleanor and Dr. Fritz.

“No, please…. Don’t,” Dean begs.

Dean’s session with Eleanor has been emotional. Dr. Fritz sat in for a portion of the time and Jimmy, the new orderly, gave his testimony of what he had seen and the condition he found Dean in his room.

Dean is amazed at how kind Jimmy has been to him. He didn’t try to restrain him when he found him in duress, instead he gently gained his attention and helped him to the infirmary.

“Dean, I will not lie to Castiel, he needs to know what happened.” Eleanor firmly confirmed.

“Just, don’t tell him. I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him when I call him tonight, I swear.”

“You won’t back out? Try to hide this episode from him?”

“No. I’ll do it. I mean, everything else is good now…. Right?” Dean bites his lip in anticipation of rejection. Eleanor shakes her head and sighs.

“Yes, Dear, Castiel is still invited to the Christmas Party and you are still allowed to spend Sunday through Wednesday with him. Your detention will end on Saturday… provided that there are no more outburst or injuries.”

“But, I didn’t do it on purpose.” He whines, playing with the bandage on his hand.

“Dean, you were in such a state that you didn’t feel the pencil piercing your skin. You didn’t notice you were bleeding. Be glad it was Jimmy who found you. He is especially understanding and has had excellent training for situations where someone’s safety is in peril.”

“I like him. I made him a card to say thanks for not punchin’ me or putting me in restraints.” Dean gives her a small smile.

“Yes, he showed me, and he was quite pleased with your thoughtfulness. He informed me that it was his first thank you card from a patient, and that he was taking it home.”

“Really? I haven’t seen him, well except in here earlier, not since he took me to the infirmary. That’s why I put it in his box. When is he… um, I mean, will he be working in my section?”

“Yes, he will. He had a few personal days, but will be back on Sunday. I’m lucky to have him on my new team.”

“Cool. Do you think… Is it okay if… Can Cas meet him?”

“Of course, I’m sure they will see each other regularly when Castiel comes to the Center for art classes and visitation.”

Dean smiles and nods, “Okay, that’s good.”

* * *

 

Detention doesn’t bother Dean, as long as he is able to keep his home visit with Cas.

Basically detention means no TV and twenty-four hour supervision. There are always orderlies in the day room anyway so as long as he stays at his window seat he can do pretty much what he wants. But his phone privilege was also taken away so he only gets one supervised call a week now.

Besides, he prefers to spend his time drawing or planning for the holiday visits coming up over the next few months. He looks over his journal and realizes that he doesn’t have enough pages left to draw the calendar pages all the way to May, he has nearly filled this book and he hesitates to draw or add anything fearing that once it is used up he won’t have anything left to use.

He looks at the few blank pages of his journal and starts to cry. ‘ _Why am I crying? It’s just a damn book. Stop_.’

He knows why. Even though he didn’t get hurt bad enough to be confined to the infirmary, Dr. Fritz did a full work up and changed his meds. Not long ago she had put him back on Prozac and now she added Abilify. She said that his manic episodes were intensifying and that they need to gain some control. The next few weeks, of course, he will fill a bit off as the meds build up and begin to work. Dean always hates that weird flux time when his meds get changed, he feels like a moody teenage girl.

* * *

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean tries to sound cheerful on the phone.

“Hey, Baby. You alright?” Of course he can’t fool Cas.

“Yea, sure, I’m, uh.. Kinda…”

“Talk to me, Dean. What’s wrong? You sound upset, Baby.”

“A little bit, but I wanna tell you the good stuff first.”

“Okay, Sweetheart, I’ll listen to whatever you need to say.”

Dean confirms that he still gets to spend Christmas with Cas, and reminds him about the party at the Center. He tells him that he met a cool new orderly… Yeah, that “new orderly” mention leads right into Cas asking how he met the orderly, which descends into Dean admitting everything happened. About stabbing his hand with the pencil, about his fit and how he was yelling at thin air and hitting his head with his fists. And about being put on detention.

“Cas, my brain was so loud… telling me all the bad stuff, telling me to cut… Cas, I was so scared. Like wanting to cut really really bad and um, really deep… BUT I was fightin’ it and screaming at … at that bad voice.”

Cas listens, stunned at how bad Dean’s episode had been, not wanting to interrupt Dean’s flow, he is admitting so much and sounds clear headed. Apparently, he must have talked through this already with Eleanor. She would have had to have given him phone access if he is on detention. He wonders if she is in the room with Dean now.

“My hand don’t hurt unless I hit it. Oh, yeah… Eleanor says that I have one more chance and if I fu… _sorry_ , mess up again she’s taking my art kit and giving me .. _really?_... giving me a box of crayons.”

‘ _Yep, Eleanor is with Dean_.’ Cas takes a breath before responding, “Oh, Baby. I’m sorry. That means you need to pay attention and take care with the things I gave you. Right? You might want to leave them here at the house?”

“I know. I really didn’t mean to drill a damn hole in my hand, Cas. Dr. Fritz hopes the new meds will help me not zone out like that when my brain starts screamin’ bad shit.”

Cas shakes his head. That sentence could only sound semi-normal coming from Dean.

“Yeah, Babe… just remember that no one else hears what your brain is saying…. So when you yell out loud it's a lopsided, kinda scary conversation.”

“I ain’t stupid, I know I look like a total kook when that happens… It, it don’t happen much, ya know. I ain’t bag-lady crazy, Cas. I’m still me. Please, don’t hate me… oh god Cas.. I’m trying so hard to get better…”

“Shh, Dean, Baby. It’s okay, I’m here, always here for you. This was just a bump in the road. You’ve had a tough few days, you know. Lots of excitement and new information, then being back in the routine of life at the Clinic. You’re doing well, Sweetheart. You are still my favorite person in the whole world. I love you. And that voice in your head is a lier if it ever tells you that I don’t.”

“Yeah?” Dean sniffles.

“Tell you what. Next time you have doubtful thoughts, you think of my voice telling you how much I love you.”

“Yeah, that sounds good” Dean huffs out a little laugh.

“See, now, feel better?”

“Yeah, I do. Crap, Eleanor is tapping her watch.” Dean mutes the phone and Cas hears him talk to her, “Okay, just a couple more minutes? Please?”

Cas smiles at the thought of how much this feels like teens having phone limits and asking mom for more time.

“So, Cas, Lunch on Sunday, right? Then art on Tuesday, and then the next Sunday you take me home.”

‘ _Home_ ’ Cas thinks that sounds beautiful coming from Dean, “Exactly. I can’t wait! Plus the party there. Hey, have you planned something special for us to do over Christmas?”

“Um, yes. It’s a surprise.”

“I’m intrigued. But, we better hang up so you don’t get into trouble. I can’t wait to see you. I miss you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. See you Sunday. Bye Cas.”

“Bye, Sweetheart.”

* * *

 

The next week and a half go ather smoothly for Dean. He has quite a bit of quiet time to think over what happened and how he responded and reacted. Being on detention also means that he has extra counseling sessions instead of TV time or other free time.  

He also has special sessions with Dr. Fritz. Along with discussing his coping mechanisms, reactions, thought processes, and general behavior, they talk about his relationship with Cas. Dr. Fritz wants to make sure he is not codependent, that Dean accepts responsibility for his actions and does not rely on Cas too much. She wants to make sure that Cas does not enable Dean’s less desired behaviors.

“Hey, Doc,” Dean plays with a little metal horseshoe and ring puzzle as he thinks about what he wants to say, “I really try not to rely on Cas, but for some stuff I kinda have to… like driving and a place to stay when I’m not here.”

He untangles the puzzle and frees the ring, then puts it back together.

“Sometimes, when I feel bad, Just seeing him or hearing his voice makes me feel better. Is that codependent?” He picks up stuffed bear and pets it while he makes a circle around her office, “And like, I mean.. Well when I get out of here for good, I want to live with Cas. I don’t want to get my own place. And it's not because I don’t think I can live on my own or nothin’, it’s because I want to be a real couple.”

“Dean, you know that part of recovery is standing on your own two feet. Being able to hold down a job and pay your bills, all those adult things that no one likes, but everyone must do.”

“I know that. I’d be happy to get a job and pay bills, AND live together with Cas. I’ve been on my own all my life, I survived. How is getting a dingy hole-in-the-wall apartment or living in a halfway house going to prove anything?”

Dean paces the office, picking up and putting down different toys, finding a floppy stuffed dog, he stops and turns to face her.

“What if we make a list of things that can really truly prove my intent and shows the judge that I’m serious about my recovery and that I can do all the adult stuff without breaking my brain?”

“Well, that does sound interesting. What do you have in mind?”

Dean smiles and rushes over to sit on the couch, pulling out his journal and a pen.

* * *

 

The Center Christmas party is on Sunday, family and friends are all invited. There is turkey and ham with all types of vegetables and sides, and an abundance of desserts.

Dean grabs a huge slice of pecan pie, even before filling his plate with food. Cas smiles and grabs a slice of apple pie.

Santa arrives with a host of Elf helpers. They haul in gifts for the patients, staff and visiting children. Dean laughs and smiles with his friends, he tries to hide his reactionary flinches when the costumed characters speak to him or get in any way near him.

“So, it’s not just clowns?” Cas whispers, noticing the uneasiness in Dean.

“I’m sorry. I just… I never liked it when people get all dressed up in costumes.” Dean apologizes, glancing at Santa and away quickly before the man looks his way.

“What’s the matter, Dean? You’re not scared of Santa Claus are you?” Marv laughs, “Awe, what did he skip your house?”

“Fuck you, Marv!” Dean yells, “Santa’s just a bullshit lie that adults tell kids to scare them into behaving.”

“What? That old ‘Behave or Santa won’t visit’ story?”

“No,” Dean looks up confused, “Behave or he WILL! What kid wants a grown man, especially dressed up in a stupid costume, sneaking into their bedroom on Christmas night?”

Cas stands between the two men, “Whoa! Okay! This conversation is over.” He shoves Marv off toward another group of people.

“Baby, I think I know what our next session with Eleanor will be about.” He kisses Dean on the cheek and leads him to the dessert table for another snack, anything to get off the topic of Santa. He wants the party to end on a good note for Dean.

* * *

 

“Oh my God, Cas! You put up a tree and decorated and everything!”

“Of course, I did. You like it?”

Dean walks around the studio, timidly touching the baubles and garland. He stops in front of the tree in the corner, studying the decorations.

“Some of these look old and broken. Why didn’t you just buy a bunch of those fancy balls and make the room all matchy-matchy?”

“One, you think I want things all “matchy-matchy”? And B, those are homemade… irreplaceable.” Cas takes one of the ornaments off the tree and turns it over in his hand.

“Every year, well actually, from the time my parents started dating, Mom always made each of them a special ornament. Their first Christmas they only had two on the whole tree. Then, when I was born, she made three each year. When I was old enough, she let me help.” He put the small wooden snowman back on the tree and pointed to the three hear the top, “Those, the awkward looking mice, we made those when I was eleven. They’re the last ones.”

“Oh man, Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay. Some of them are pretty crappy.” Cas smiles as his eyes roam over the tree.

“No, they’re not crappy. That’s your Mom’s thing, it’s perfect.”  Dean rubs Cas’s back, like Cas always does for him when he’s sad. “Um, Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you don’t mind, or get mad… but,” he holds up one finger and runs into the bedroom. He comes back out with what looks like a balled up page of the Sunday comics. “I made this for you. I - I didn’t know you had all that,” he gestures at the decorated tree. “You don't have to keep it if you don't want.” He holds out the messy ball.

Cas accepts the gift, which is lighter than he expected. Turning it over, he looks at the Garfield comic strip that covers most of the paper, smiling as he remembers wrapping gifts for his parents the same way.

“I know the wrapping is kinda shit…” Dean begins to make excuses.

“No, it’s great.” Cas grins, tenderly touching Dean on the cheek. “Can I open it now? Or do you want me to wait?”

“Oh, please… open it now. Then I can quit freaking out, I’ll know if you hate it or not.”

Cas side-eyes Dean, wanting to tell him to stop doubting himself, but instead he rips the paper, careful of whatever is inside. “There is no way I could ever hate anything you make.”

“You say that,” Dean eases a step back nervously, “I’m not used to making gifts for people, never really had a reason before.”

Cas’s vision blurs as he examines the handmade gift. It’s a 3D paper mache heart, painted and embellished with great care.  It is very shiny, obviously lacquered with high gloss clear spray paint, one side is blue with fine gold lines in a few places, the other side is green with several more gold lines. The outer edge is trimmed with gold ribbon and there is a loop of the ribbon so it can be hung. Cas nods and tears drip off his cheeks as he looks at the object in his hands.

Dean frowns with concern as he watches Cas. “I.. .I, Cas?”

Cas pulls him into a tight hug, “I love it. I love you.” He whispers. Stepping back, Cas smiles down at the ornament, “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s like you told me about your mom’s pendant. The blue is for you… because of your amazing eyes, and you have some scars in your life. The green is for me, well cuz I have green eyes… and there’s more gold for more scars. But, because of you, I’m not afraid of my scars anymore.”

Cas tries to smile but sobs out a strange laugh/cry, “You are so precious. God, I don't deserve such a beautiful soul in my life. But… I’m never giving you up, or giving up on you!” He gets his words out in broken sentences through tears and fits of laughter. He’s so emotional, his brain and body are confused as to how to react.  Taking a deep breath, he places the ornament on the tree so that it has a place of honor and can be seen when you walk into the room.

Wiping his face with his hands, he settles himself, “I think you’re trying to break me.” He smirks at Dean.

“Oh… no, that comes later.” Dean sing-songs as he gets comfortable on the couch and looks up at Cas in an overtly suggestive way. “You have to wait til Christmas morning for the rest of your surprise.”

Cas stands over Dean, his feet on either side of Dean’s. He lowers himself onto Dean’s lap, leaning forward, he teases Dean with nearly there kisses, just close enough that his breath is warming Dean’s lips.

“Baby?” He moans against Dean’s lips.

“Ngh-ya?”

Cas traces his breath across Dean’s jawline and up to his earlobe.

“A or B?”

“Huh?” Dean whines and grips fists full of couch cushion.

“A…” Cas whispers, his lips touching Dean’s ear, “We see how many times I can make you come tonight,” he nips and sucks Dean’s earlobe, “B, We see how long we can last, before... “ he breathes out a heavy sigh.

Dean’s whole body shivers. “Jesus, Cas… rrrefraction endurance or mmmphh edging….. Holy fuck... “ Dean runs his hands up and down Cas’s thighs, he lets his head fall back on the couch, moaning as Cas gently kisses his neck.

“Will I get, um, help… um, like a ring or something? Or .. aaahhhhhh god… do you want me to … ‘cuz I could just about cum watching you walk across the room.”

Cas laughs and lays his forehead on Dean’s chest, “Seriously? I’m a clutz, how can watching me stumble get you that hard?”

“Shuddup, that ain't true.” Dean chuckles and brings Cas’s face up to meet his, kissing him fully. “Do you have, ya know, a ring?”

Cas shakes his head, “Got out of that scene and tossed my collection years ago.”

Dean’s eyes widen, he isn’t sure he wants to ask, or know the answer.

“Baby, it’s okay. I was only into light D/s and…” Cas hesitates.

“And bondage?” Dean fills in, still unsure how he feels about the thought of Cas being in that life.

Cas nods, “Never metal cuffs or bars, or anything harmful. Rope and sometimes silk ties.”

“And you were... a Dom?” He asks almost under his breath, voice shaky.

“Switch, but yea, I preferred to dominate. Baby… I never… I _will_ never do anything with you that you don’t like or want. I left all that behind a long time ago. I would never restrain you, I know how much you hate it.”

Dean brings his hands down to Cas’s chest, “Enough talking.” He slowly unbuttons Cas’s flannel shirt, frowning at the t-shirt underneath.

“What? It was cold outside.” Cas teases, “But it's gettin’ hot in here.” He raises his arms and Dean slips off both shirts at once.

They don’t make it off the couch before Cas cums the first time.

* * *

 

The mid-morning sun shines brightly into the bedroom. Dean grumbles and throws an arm over his eyes. Cas burrows his face under Dean’s pillow.

“Ugh, daylight…” Dean goans. His stomach acknowledges the time and rumbles loudly. Cas chuckles when Dean’s stomach sounds again, then when Cas’s stomach replies, Cas falls into a full body laughter.

“Shit, gotta pee!” Cas kicks at the covers, still laughing and cursing his bladder.

Dean stumbles behind Cas laughing shoving his way into the bathroom, he turns on the shower while waiting his turn to piss.

Cas smacks his bare butt cheek, “Yea, well, guess the edging didn’t go as planned, huh.”

Dean barks out a loud laugh, “Not with your speedy McDick! I bet you kept score!”

“Shut up! No. Maybe…. Shut up. I may have blown first but I made you come 4 times, even with that little nap you just had to take.” Cas grins and steps under the water.

“So, wash up and I’ll add one more for you.” Dean licks his lips and cups Cas’s balls. They soap up and wash last nights mess off each other, kissing and fondling and giggling. Dean finally deems them clean and pushes Cas against the wall. Sinking to his knees, Dean fulfills his promise of giving Cas another climax.

The rest of Christmas Eve is spent snuggling and making out. They eat sandwiches for lunch and a hearty soup for dinner. When the sun goes down they lay under the tree and watch the lights twinkle. Cas tells Dean stories of some of the Christmases with his parents.

They finally crawl into bed a little after midnight, curling up together, falling asleep both contented from a good day.

* * *

 

Dean wakes early Christmas morning. He quietly dresses and makes his way to the kitchen to fix a breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, juice and coffee. He boxes it all up and grabs a couple of bed trays he found in the pantry.

Cas is still asleep when he returns to the studio. The smell of food and coffee causes him to stir.

Dean leans down and kisses Cas, “Mornin’ Sunshine. Merry Christmas.” He smiles and retrieves a tray filled with food for Cas. “Sit up, I brought you breakfast.”

Cas stretches and scoots up, adjusting his pillows behind him and leaning against the headboard.

“Dean! Did you cook?” He watches, wide-eyed, as Dean places the tray over his lap.

“Sure did. And there’s a carton of OJ and a carafe of coffee in the box over there.” He grabs his tray and carefully climbs in bed, straightening the covers over his legs and sitting his tray over his lap. He grins at Cas who is still watching, stunned.

“Better put some food in that gaping hole in your face before everything gets cold.”

Cas takes a bite of the pancakes, all buttery and covered in syrup, “Oh my God! This tastes amazing!”

They both dive in, mumbling and laughing through mouths full of food.

“So, you said you have plans for today?” Cas asks as he gets up to pour more juice and bring the coffee closer.

“Yep.” Dean pops the P and shovels his last bite of eggs in his mouth.

Cas sits facing him, coffee cup in hand, anticipating more of an explanation. “Well?” he finally asks.

Dean chuckles and clears the trays, he puts everything in the studio sink, rinsing the dishes, ready to go back to the kitchen later.

“Dean!” Cas flops back onto the bed, flustered, “Come on, I’m dying here.”

“Fine. First things first.” He smirks, “Let’s get a shower and I need to shave or at least trim this.” He rubs his hand over his scruffy beard.

“I dunno, Santa… I kinda like it. Might even like it fuller.” Cas holds Dean’s face in his hands, petting his scruff.

“Ugh, it’s itchy.” Dean complains.

“Okay, Baby.” Cas huffs a little laugh, “It’s your face and I think your face is gorgeous scruffy or clean shaven, so you do what you want, Sweetheart.”

He gently scratches Dean’s jawline, working his fingers back past his ears to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Mmm,” Dean mumbles into Cas’s mouth as he pushes him toward the bathroom.

Cas releases Dean’s mouth and laughs, “What are you trying to say while I’m trying to be all sexy here?”

“I said, you taste like eggs.” Dean smiles, sticking the tip of his tongue out between his teeth.

“No shit, Sherlock. Go start the shower.”

They wash and tease and playfully enjoy their morning routine. Dean does shave, feeling clean and fresh and ready to get Christmas Day started. Dean tells Cas to stay in the bedroom until he calls him out. Pushing him back to the bed, Dean kisses him, filthy, wet, and all kinds of sexy, before backing out of the bedroom and closing the door. Cas collapses back on the bed and groans.

Dean grabs the supplies he left in a bag in the studio. He rolls out the fuzzy, wide, red ribbon along the floor from the door to the tree. He shucks off his pajama pants and t-shirt, dressing in the special item that he was able to get Aimee’s niece to help him buy online. She brought it to him last week, and he’s been dying to show Cas.

Once dressed, he begins wrapping himself in the soft, sheer red fabric that he cut into long strips. He ties loose knots down his chest and over his hips, making a big bow to cover his personal package. Finally, he makes a loop around his wrists and attaches the ribbon on the floor under the bow at his hips. Positioning himself mostly hidden by the sprigs of the Christmas tree; he relaxes down onto his knees, his butt on his heels and his hands upturned and resting on his knees. Straightening his back, he takes a few calming breaths.

“Cas! You can come out now!” He calls, letting out a final settling breath when he hears the door open.

Cas looks around the room, all the fairy and Christmas lights are on, the tree is twinkling; there are cushions and blankets on the floor where the coffee table should be, the sitting area looks soft and inviting. Looking down, he sees the ribbon with a note attached.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, CAS!  
I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING -   
MORE THAN PIE OR EVEN AIR!  
I COULD ONLY THINK OF ONE THING TO GIFT YOU   
THAT SHOWS HOW IMPORTANT YOU ARE IN MY LIFE…  
FOLLOW THE RIBBON.  
DEAN

Cas folds the note and begins to roll the ribbon in his hands, following it to the opposite end of the room. He gasps as he steps next to the tree. Staring down at Dean. Blindfolded with Cas’s favorite blue silk tie and tied up in soft red ribbon, kneeling there smiling up at him.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice shakes with arousal and anticipation.

“You gonna unwrap you gift?”

“D-Dean, you… fuck.. can I take a picture?” Dean chuckles and nods, and Cas runs to grab his phone. Cas takes a few pictures then sets his phone up to record as he unwraps his beautiful boyfriend.

“C-can I leave on the blindfold, just for a bit?” Cas is breathing hard, seeing Dean trussed up like this has him finding it difficult to keep certain thoughts at bay.

“Maybe til you get the first three undone. I really want to see you unwrap the rest.” Dean smirks and looks up toward Cas’s voice.

Cas leans in and licks Dean’s nipple while he removes the ribbon. Mouthing and teething until the little bud is hard and red, kissing across Dean’s chest he gives the other nipple the same treatment.

Dean lets his head fall back and opens his chest as much as possible in his current situation, moaning at the sinsation.

Cas slowly works his way down the first three knots, caressing Dean’s skin with his fingers and mouth. Dean pants and fights his need to squirm. Cas reaches up, placing his hands on the sides of Dean’s smooth face, kissing him as he pulls off the blindfold. Dean opens his mouth and invites Cas to deepen the kiss. Cas reaches down to the next now and pulls free the ribbon, dragging it up Dean’s side and looping it around the back of his neck.

Dean blinks his eyes open and smiles at Cas, whose eyes are lust blown and his lips wet and dark pink from kissing.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Dean whispers

Cas fingers trace around the final ribbon with the large bow laying over Dean’s crotch and lap. “This one or your wrists first?”

“Wrists.” Dean whispers.

Cas pulls the soft fabric free from Dean’s wrists, kissing each one.

Dean raises his arms, lacing his fingers behind his head, stretching his torso and presenting the big red bow.

Cas blows out a shaky breath, he can’t help but touch all that exposed skin. He isn't sure what is waiting for him under the bow, other than his favorite cock, so he forces himself to take his time fingering at the edges of the soft red fabric. He knows Dean must have something special for him.

“Mmm… fuck…. Dean… good God.” Cas gasps and groans out when he pulls the fabric away from Dean’s hips. He reaches out but stays just shy of touching, his hand shakes as he takes in the emerald green satin and black lace panties.

“Dean,” Cas pants as he finally palms Dean’s cock through the fabric, reaching his other hand up and pulling Dean to him by the ribbon around his neck, for a hard lust filled kiss.

“Mnnfhfhuk, Dean,” Cas gowls as he helps him to his feet. “Jesus fucking Christ...you look so…” He gropes Dean’s ass as he thrust his tongue into Dean’s mouth again and grinds his raging hard-on along his hip. “Panties… nghuuh… silky knots…” He moans.

Dean smiles and reaches into the tree and pulls out a little stocking, handing it to Cas.

“More?” He tips out the contents of the little stocking to find a new bottle of lube, “Cherry flavored!” Cas chuckles.

“I got a box with a few different flavors. It’s wrapped for you under the tree.” Dean pulls at the hem of Cas’s t-shirt. Cas raises his arms and allows him to remove the unnecessary article.

Dean leeds Cas to the soft nest he built in the middle of the room, tugging at the waistband of Cas’s sleep pants.

“Fuuu… your ass in those panties, God, soo good.” Cas cups Dean’s butt cheeks and nibbles at his neck.

“How do you want me, Cas? What do you want to do first?”

Cas takes a half step back, keeping one finger touching Dean, tracing his muscles and along the laste top of the panties. He walks around, eyes devouring every inch at every angle.

“I want to taste everything under those pretty panties, then sink my cock inside you.”

Dean kneels down on the bedding, placing his hands flat on Cas’s hips, close but not touching his dick,  “Put me how you want me. I want you to do everything…. then start all over… I give myself to you, Cas. I’m yours to kiss, lick, bite, suck, eat, fuck… anything you want to do.”

Cas positions Dean head down, ass up. Stroking his hands over the satin on his firm ass. He bites Dean’s cheek through the fabric.

“I’m going to do all that, and if you mean I really get to do anything…” Cas pauses, Dean looks expectantly over his shoulder at Cas, panting and shaking. “Then it means I’m also going to love, cherish, support and care for you. Because you’re the most important person in my life.”

Cas kisses the small of Dean’s back and pulls the panties down just far enough to spread those full round cheeks and get his tongue on that hole.


	41. Birthday Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January brings a new year and Dean's 25th birthday.

Aimee plops down in the chair across from Dean, watching while he writes in his journal. “You’re almost out of pages.” She remarks, startling him out of his focus.

“Huh?”

“Your journal is almost full; you only have a few pages left.” She repeats.

“Yea, I know.” Dean flips the pages, “Do you think the Center will get us new ones? I hate to expect Cas to buy more.”

“Dude, I don’t think anybody else has anywhere near filled up theirs like you have. I mean, I use it for the stuff Castiel tells us to do, but, dang, you went to the next level.”

Dean sighs and drops his forehead to the table. “Why can’t I be normal? God, I do everything wrong.”

“Hey, what did you just say?”

Dean’s head jerks up in response to Cas’s unhappy, concerned tone.

“Cas?” Dean looks around the day room, confused, “What are you doing here?”

“Do you want me to leave?” Cas motions toward the door.

“NO! I, I just don’t… Please, stay.” Dean jumps up and pushes another chair next to his.

Cas grabs his hand and brings it to his lips, kissing his palm gently. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean grins and drapes his arms around Cas’s neck, “Hey, Cas.”

“Did you forget that its New Year’s Eve?” Cas asks as he draws Dean in for a hug.

“Oh shit, I knew I was forgetting something. I’ve had a weird feeling all day.” He nuzzles Cas’s neck, “I’m so glad you’re here, Cas. How long are you staying?”

“If you promise to be quiet,” Cas whispers against the shell of Dean’s ear, “I’ll stay all night.”

Dean stares wide-eyed, he bites his bottom lip and nods.

After dinner, the staff set the TV to a New Year’s Eve special and take the remote. This is the one night that patients are allowed to stay up past lights-out.

Dean and Cas play Cards Against Humanity with Aimee, Ash, Ruby, Harry, Ed, Garth and even Jimmy, the orderly, sits in for a hand or two.

As the night draws on, more and more patients head off to bed, unable or unconcerned about seeing in the new year. Some are confused by the New York celebration and time difference.

“Hey, Guys! Five minutes to midnight!” Aimee calls out over the raucous laughter from the last match of cards.

“Alright, let’s pack this up. If y'all didn’t lose any cards, I promise to bring the game another time.” Cas announces as everyone starts handing in their cards. Dean helps make sure all the cards are tidy and correctly back in the box.

The small group chatter and laugh as they settle in to watch the Dallas broadcast of the celebration; they had paused the game earlier to watch the ball drop in New York, but the giant star display in Dallas is even more exciting for the Texas residents.

Cas sits in one of the overstuffed chairs, and Dean sits across his lap with most of his weight on the soft arm of the chair.

“One minute and counting!” Calls Ed.

Dean wraps his arm behind Cas’s neck, smiling down into those bright blue eyes.

“10!” Calls Harry with the TV announcer.

“9” Everyone joins in.

“8”

“7” Several orderlies join the group.

“6”

“5”

“4” Cas pulls Dean closer.

“3” Dean whispers against Cas’s lips, “Love you.”

“2”

“1” The group cheers “Happy New Year!” Cas and Dean kiss.

Jimmy winks and silently acknowledges when Dean and Cas slip out of the room.

* * *

 

Dean is watching the main entrance an hour before breakfast.

“Dude, traffic is always worse on weekday mornings. Plus the rain last night makes commuters drive like grandma’s.” Jimmy tries to calm Dean’s nervous nail-biting.

“He said he’d be here before breakfast. Breakfast started ten minutes ago.” Dean complains.

“Settle down. Don’t be so impatient. Do you want him to walk in here and see you all tense and anxious? Or would it be more pleasant to greet him with a smile and a good attitude?”

“Sorry, Jimmy” Dean shakes off his anxiety like he can fling it off the tips of his fingers, rolling his shoulders and neck to release the tension. He lets out a big breath.

“Better?”

“A little.”

The exterior door opens, and Dean holds his breath, his jaw tenses when the Gardner walks in to speak with the security guard.  Dean closes his eyes, turning his face to the ceiling, “Come on, Cas.” He mouths, barely audible.

Jimmy smiles when Cas steps in behind the Gardner. He draws Dean’s attention so that Dean’s back is to the doors.

“Take a deep breath, Dean. Calm down. Close your eyes and relax. Cas will be here before you know it.” Jimmy winks at Cas and gestures for him to take his place. “Okay, Dean, you calm, now?”

Dean nods, keeping his eyes closed and counting his breaths.

“Alright buddy, open your eyes when you're ready,” Jimmy says as he moves off to the side, letting Cas stand in front of Dean.

“CAS!” Shouts Dean excitedly as soon as he opens his eyes. “How did…”

Cas steals his words with a kiss. “Happy Birthday, Baby.” He pecks a kiss on the tip of Dean’s nose. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was moving like molasses. You ready to go?”

“Yep. I wasn’t worried at all.” Dean doesn’t meet Cas’s eyes.

“Hey, no lies. It’s okay if you were worried, just don't let it wind you up and get you all upset. Especially not on your big day.”

Dean glances at Jimmy, who nods, then looks directly into Cas’s eyes, “I started thinking of all the things that could happen, and I did get anxious. Jimmy reminded me to calm down and breathe.”

“Thank you for being honest, Sweetheart.” Cas smiles over at Jimmy, “Thanks Jimmy, I’m glad you’re part of the team, you’re a great fit, and so much help to Dean.”

“I love it here. There are still a few rough patches that need attention, but overall I like my coworkers, and the patients I work with are never dull.” Jimmy claps Dean on the shoulder and bids them goodbye and to have fun.

“Come on, Cas. I only get the day; we have to be back after dinner.”

“Babe, that’s like twelve hours. We’ll be fine.” Cas laughs, “Let’s start by going to breakfast. I’m starving.”

After breakfast at IHOP, because it’s Dean’s day to choose, Cas takes Dean to his favorite art supplies store.

“I’ve never seen so much crafty stuff all in one place.” Dean stands just inside the doors for a moment taking in the bright lights, scents, and colors. He drags Cas through every single aisle, looking at everything. Commenting and ogling over things in each section, yarn, cake decorating, woodworking, paint supplies, scrapbooking and so much more.

“Okay, Dean. You need a new journal.” Cas leads him back to the correct area.

“Really, Cas?” Dean asks while being pulled along like a toddler in a candy store, wanting to look at and touch everything.

“Of course, Dean. I want you to find a sketchbook you like, too. I was thinking you need a separate journal for your thoughts.”

Dean traces his fingers over the sketchbooks, looking at all the different sizes and paper weights. He asks a few questions about the paper types and binding options.

They spend a couple of hours in the craft store and end up with two sizes of sketchbooks, a lined journal (with a drawing of a sloth hanging from a limb and the caption “Follow your dreams” on the cover - “Shut up, Cas, it’s cute”), and a calendar for Dean; plus a pack of Sharpie pens and a few tubes of paint that Cas needs for his latest project.

While they are waiting in line, Dean leans close and whispers, “I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

Cas smiles, looking past Dean at the elderly woman with her grandson in line, then looks back into Dean’s eyes, he leans in and pecks a chaste kiss on Dean’s surprised lips.

A young mother with an infant in line in front of Cas huffs loudly and tsks. The boy looks up at the lady sadly.

“Jake, sweetheart,” the grandmother says, as she strokes his hair, “pay no mind.”

Dean looks back, concerned about anti-gay attitudes that seem to surround them.

“Like I’ve told you, baby boy, you are perfect just as you are, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You pay no mind to the negative in this world.” She glances up at the young mother then back to the boy.

“Excuse me,” the boy begs Dean’s attention, “are y'all like, um, together?”

“Yes,” Dean smiles softly, “he’s my boyfriend.”

The boy - Jake, smiles, “Um, can I ask you something else?”

“Yea, I guess.” Dean gives Cas a nervous glance.

“There’s a boy in my class that I really like, but… Do you think I should ask him to the Valentine party at school?”

“Um…” Dean looks at Cas and at the grandmother, “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“Wow. Um, you know what? Yeah, um… Have you told him that you like him?”

“Kinda. We hang out at lunch and stuff; sometimes we get to be in the same group for projects. He’s real smart and likes the same comic books I do.” Jake replies shyly at first, but Dean can see the excitement in his face as he talks about the other boy.

“I figure you _should_ ask him to the party. If nothing else, y’all can become better friends. Besides, there’s no reason to rush the romantic stuff.” Dean winks at Jake and smiles at his grandmother.

“Cool, thanks, Mister!” Jakes reaches out and shakes Dean’s hand. His grandmother pats Jake’s back and mouths “Thank you” to Dean.

“You’re welcome. And your grandma’s right, you keep being yourself, Jake. Don’t let people push you around.”

Outside the store, they load their purchases under the tarp in the truck bed. Once they climb into the cab, Cas pulls Dean close. Dean grins and buckles up in the middle of the bench seat.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” Cas asks, “That kid, Baby; you are exactly who he needed to meet today. I don’t know how you do it; you’re incredible with kids.”

“They’re just small people, Cas. Not aliens.”

“I’ve never been good with kids.” Cas looks down at the keys still in his hand.

“You’d be great if you tried, if you wanted to, you could even teach kids. You’re a wonderful teacher.”

“O-ho no… been there, tried that. One kid in that whole class was tolerable.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Dean rests his arm on the seat behind Cas, “I love you… even if you are scared of small humans.” Dean smacks a sloppy kiss on Cas’s cheek and laughs while Cas grumbles about how fearing children makes more sense than fearing clowns.

“You have to be nice to me. It’s my birthday, and you said it’s _my_ special day.” Dean pouts and flutters his lashes.

“Okay, brat. I’m being nice. Look, I’m even gonna feed you - again.” He points at the Harvelle’s sign.

“My heerooo!” Dean teases and fans himself, “You’re gonna feed little ‘ole me? You are too kind, sir.” He panders in a thick southern accent. “Tis a pleasure to be escorted by such a fine gentleman.”

Cas pulls into a parking spot and turns to face Dean. “Darlin’ today is all about you, and you’re pleasure.” Cas allows his Texas accent to sing through his deep, bedroom voice, knowing full well the effect it has on Dean. The gasp and slow blink from Dean proves him right. He pecks Dean’s cheek and hops out of the truck, holding out a hand for Dean. “Come on, Princess, food awaits!”

Dean looks down at his lap and groans as he slides out of the cab. “You did that on purpose.” He pouts as he adjusts the bulge in his pants. “Asshole.”

Cas holds the door and swats Dean’s butt as he passes into the restaurant. Charlie waves at them from their usual booth.

“Charlie!” Dean tugs Cas to the table, “Cas, you didn’t tell me she was coming.”

“Surprise!” Cas throws his hands in the air in an over-exaggerated motion making Dean and Charlie laugh.

Charlie spends most of lunch reciting stories of their youthful antics and adventures. When Dean takes a bathroom break, she quickly updates Cas on the latest development with the Crowley case.

“The local lawyer - well, team of lawyers - that we have been discussing the case with are working with this top ranked legal agency who are involved with several of the larger cases that have already been tried. Dude, they’re winning cases and bringing down the bad guys with every court hearing! We’ve definitely found the right legal team. All the information that we took to them is being confirmed, the case against Crowley is solid. The lead council said that Crowley has been the slippery snake that no one has been able to grab, but with what we found, they can take him down.”

Cas reaches across the table and kisses her on the forehead. “I knew you could do it, Charlie!”

“Well, it's still going to be a few weeks to a few months. They don’t want to miss even one step or loophole that he could use to weasel his way free.”

“Yeah, of course, that makes sense. Still, thank you so much. I know this isn’t what you were hired to do.”

“Stop it. None of that matters right now. Besides, I’ve already updated your website and beefed up the security in my spare time.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Naw, man, that was easy-peasy. Taking down the monsters and saving Dean is the most important thing I’ve ever done. Having him back in my life has been incredible. I didn’t realize how big of a hole there was until he was there to fill it again.”

“I completely understand.” Cas answers, lost in thought when a hand grazes his shoulders. He looks up right as Dean leans down and their mouths meet. Cas means to keep it PG but moans and opens his lips wanting more. Dean is the one to be the adult and keep the kiss _family friendly_.

“Miss me?” Dean smirks and slides onto the seat beside Cas, his arm across Cas’s shoulders and his entire left side pressed against him.

Cas squeezes his thigh, “So much.” He sighs.

“Welp! This working girl has to get back to the office. Happy Birthday, Dean. I love you, brother.” Dean stands to hug her tightly, kissing her on the cheek.

“You bitches keep it PG until you make it home.” She winks and flashes the Vulcan hand sign as she leaves.

The ride home is torture. Cas can’t keep his hands off Dean, and Dean is no better. At one red light, Cas looks over to see a cop next to them and smiles like a maniac while Dean is palming his dick and trying to unzip his jeans.

“He can’t see my hand in your pants, Cas. Green light!” Dean finally gets the zipper open and wraps his hand around Cas’s cock.

“Fuck, Baby. You’re killin’ me.”

Fifteen minutes later, Cas slams Dean against the wall in the garage, grinding and squeezing Dean’s ass while they frantically kiss.

“It’s fuckin’ freezin' in here, the bedroom is warm and waiting for us,” Cas growls between kisses.

Dean pushes Cas’s face away enough to speak, “Race ya?”

Cas steps back, trying to put his dick away, and they both take off toward the studio. Running and leaping over lawn furniture. Dean swings the exterior door open and Cas blasts through, Dean tackles him on the bed. Pulling at each other's clothes, fighting to get naked.

“Damn, boots!” Cas complains when Dean’s jeans get caught inside out by his shoes. Dean is laughing so hard he’s unable to help at all. “Keep laughing, smart guy.”

“You’re the one…  who… pulled them… inside out!” Dean says between laughing and wiping the tears from his eyes. “I haven’t … laughed so…. hard… in a … long time!”

Cas plops down on the floor still trying to untangle Dean’s jeans. “I’m glad that I amuse you!” He manages to find the boots inside the pant legs, ”Success! Jesus - this one is in a knot!” He flops back onto the rug. “Dean, help me!”

Dean sits up, works his laces untied and pulls off his boots and jeans. “Hey, Cas... “ He crawls over Cas, kissing his legs and working his way up. “Looks like I have to remind your dick that my birthday party is just getting started.” He runs his tongue over Cas’s hip bones and kisses the tip of his soft cock.

“We both died from disappointment when we were defeated by your fuckin boots.” Cas pouts.

“Awe…” Dean pets the soft dick and reaches up to kiss Cas’s pouty mouth, “so sad and so soft. Do you think maybe if I give it mouth-to-dick resuscitation I can bring it back to life?”

Cas fights back his smile, but giggles and pushes at Dean’s shoulders, “I think you need to test that theory.”

“Yes, sir!” Dean backs his way down Cas’s body, kissing the bare skin as he works his way to Cas’s sad flaccid dick. He takes Cas’s sack in his hand as he wraps his mouth around his dick, licking and sucking on the softness. Cas whimpers and his hands jump to Dean’s head, petting his hair. He loves how quickly Cas begins to get hard inside the warmth of his mouth, the way Cas’s fingers grip tighter and tighter in his hair. Dean continues to play with Cas’s stiffening cock, fondling his balls. He reaches his other hand up to Cas’s mouth, and Cas sucks his fingers in, licking and sucking them, getting them good and wet. Dean takes his wet fingers and presses them against Cas’s hole, drawing a long deep moan from Cas.

“Is that what you want, Baby?”

Dean hums his answer around Cas’s cock.

“Oh fuck, that’s nice, Dean.”

Dean swallows Cas down then pulls off with a loud pop. “Floor or bed? Ima get lube.” He pants in a low, gravelly voice.

Cas answers by climbing up on the bed and positioning himself head down ass up.

“Mmm, happy birthday to me.” Dean drizzles lube onto Cas’s hole and spreads it around the pucker with his thick fingers, pressing one finger in he rubs Cas’s lower back with his other hand. “That’s it, open up for me, Cas.” He kisses Cas’s firm ass cheek, circling his finger in and out, watching the muscle quiver and pucker. Cas relaxes under his ministrations, moaning as Dean pushes in another finger.

“Yeah, Cas, so good,” Dean adds his tongue to the work his fingers are doing, humming and sucking while his fingers scissor and open Cas up so he can tongue him deeper.

“Fuuuck… mfh, D… oh yeaaa…” Cas tries but his words are jumbled, and he ends up moaning and pushing back into Dean.

Dean works a bit longer then pulls his fingers out, still mouthing at Cas’s hole and licking up from his balls to his fluttering hole again. He adds more lube to his hand and coats his hard dick.

“You ready for me, Cas?” He wipes his cock head over Cas’s entry.

“Ah - Dean… Baby… yes yes, need you now! Mmffhhaa” Cas begs and lets out a loud moan as Dean presses into him.

Dean’s cock pops through the ring of loosened muscle, and he continues to push slowly until he bottoms out. Only then does he pause, allowing them both to adjust before he pulls back and begins a steady slow motion. His hands curl around Cas’s hips, and he pants out grunts and unintelligible sounds. Cas moans and reaches back with one hand to grip Dean’s thigh, and the other grips the headboard.

“D... De… ah, more… hard”

Dean understands and slams into Cas, speeding up his thrusts, pulling Cas by the hips as he pushes into him. Sweat glistens on Cas’s back, and Dean bends down to lick a streak, pushing deep inside Cas as he licks then bites between his shoulder blades. He raises up and fucks into Cas hard and fast. Gripping bruises into his hips.

Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s leg. He howls and grunts as Dean knocks the breath out of him each time they slam together.

Dean grits his teeth, sweat drips into his eyes, he growls as he feels his balls tighten. Letting go with one hand, he spits into his palm and reaches down and wraps his hand around Cas, stroking him in time with his own thrusts.

Cas nearly screams at the touch when Dean wraps his fingers around his painfully hard cock. His eyes roll back, and he gives in to the pleasure that Dean is taking and giving. “Ah - Ah- Ah” is the only sound he is able to make at this point. Everything has narrowed to the contact between them, Dean is his whole world, and he can feel this world about to detonate into a climatic explosion. His dick thickens, his ass burns and his balls tighten. Cas can feel every bump and vain of Dean’s cock inside him. He cries out, trying to let Dean know he is about to cum.

Dean loses his tempo and plunges deep into Cas, jacking him with a squeeze and a twist. He lets his head fall back, and he lets out an animalistic sound when Cas cums, he stays deep and grinds against Cas as he follows him over the edge.

They both hiss when Dean finally pulls out.

Dean falls next to Cas and laces their fingers together; he tries to catch his breath.

“Cas… you… ok?” Dean pants.

“Mmhmm.” Cas nods and curls into Dean’s side, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean wraps his arm around him and kisses the top of his head.

Cas is startled awake by the sound of his phone ringing. He rolls over and falls off the bed, grabbing his jeans and digging out his phone. “What?”

“Dude, you need to learn how to answer the phone with better manners.”

“What is it, Gabe?”

“You told me to call you if I didn’t hear from you before five. So, I’m calling.”

“Ugh, sorry, Gabe. Yeah, thanks. I knew I’d ignore an alarm. But falling out of bed to find my fucking phone is a sure way to wake up.”

Gabe laughs, “Glad to be of service. So how's the birthday boy?”

Cas looks at his sleeping boyfriend, “Fucker didn’t even wake up when I fell outa the bed. Thanks for waking me up, Gabe. We need to get cleaned up and ready to go to dinner.”

“No details! Have fun, or more fun, or whatever. Talk to ya later.”

“Bye, Gabe.”

Cas pushes Dean onto his back and sits on him. “Wake up Birthday Boy!” he gooses Dean in the sides.

“Aahh! Fuck! Dammit, Cas! Not fair!”

Cas leans down and captures Dean’s grumpy face, kissing him all over before landing on his lips. “Love you, Babe!” Cas crawls off Dean and pulls him up. “Get up; we need to shower.”

“Unnghh, why?” Dean falls back onto the bed.

“We can't go to dinner naked and covered in spunk, Sweetheart.”

“No dinner, ‘mere, cuddle.”

“If you want me to touch you… meet me in the shower. I’ll wash your hair.” Cas knows Dean loves him to wash his hair.

“Kisses?” Dean mumbles flapping his hands in the air pleading Cas to return.

“All my kisses are in the shower with me,” Cas calls from the bathroom door.

Dean cracks open his eyes and looks around, frowning when he sees that Cas already left him for the shower. He yawns and stretches then heads to the bathroom.

“I’m here for kisses and for you to wash me - all of me.” Dean teases when he steps into the shower, placing his hands on Cas’s chest and caressing his wet skin.

Cas kisses him and turns him under the spray. “Such a tough job, but I’m willing to take on this burden,” Cas smirks as he begins spreading shampoo in Dean’s hair.

* * *

 

Dean smiles when Jay welcomes them at their favorite pizza place.

When Dean is just out of earshot, Cas tells Jay that it’s his birthday and that he’d love an apple pie pizza for dessert, but Cas wants it to be a surprise.

Cas tells Dean to order his favorite pizza, and they both enjoy the Meat Lovers with extra cheese. They eat and yell at the football game on the big TV along with some of the other patrons, neither really caring which team wins. Dean hooks his foot around Cas’s calf, smiling and holding his gaze until Jay, and a few other staff circle their table and pull him out of his eye-fucking session.

“What’s happening?” Dean asks slowly as he looks at the circle of people, then at Cas.

Jay raises his hand and gets the entire room’s attention, “Hey folks! We have a birthday boy here tonight!” Dean glares at Cas, Cas just smiles back. “How ‘bout y’all join us in singing to this fella?” There are cheers, and some of the patrons do join in when they start singing the Birthday Song.

Dean turns bright red. Cas holds his hand and kisses his knuckles. The room erupts in applause and cheers of “Happy Birthday, Dean!”

Jay places the apple pie pizza on the table in front of Dean. “Happy Birthday, buddy. Sorry if we embarrassed you, too much. I hope you enjoy the pie.” Jay leans down and gives Dean a hug.

“Cas…” Dean sputters out,  nearly in tears.

“Oh, Baby. It’s okay.” He kisses Dean’s hot cheeks and runs his fingers through his hair. “You need a minute?”

Dean nods.

“Okay, Sweetheart, want to go to the bathroom?” Dean nods again.

Cas guides him to the bathroom with his hand on the small of Dean’s back. Dean grabs him and hugs him tight as soon as the door closes. He chokes out a sob. It takes him a moment to gather himself, then he pulls back and smiles a watery smile.

“This… today… I never,” He takes a shaky breath and wipes his eyes with his palms, “Thank you, Cas.”

“You are very welcome. I love you, Dean. Happy birthday. Now, you okay to go back?”

Dean sniffs, “Need to piss; then I’ll be out.”

Cas decides to empty his bladder while he’s here, too. “See you in a minute? Wash your face too, Babe. You’re all overheated.” He kisses his cheek and leaves Dean to wash up.

Back at the table, Cas divvies out slices of pie for each of them.

“Is Dean alright?” Jay asks.

“Yeah, it was all just a bit much. He’s not used to the attention.”

“Okay, then. I just wanted to check on him. Hey, I’m glad you guys are doing well. Y’all are a great couple.”

“Thanks, Jay.” Cas smiles, somehow it means a lot coming from Jay.

“You didn’t eat all the pie did you?” Dean teases as he takes his seat next to Cas. He seems to have gotten his balance back, smiling and kissing Cas on the cheek.

“Waited on you, birthday boy.”

They eat half the apple pie pizza, and Jay boxes up the leftovers for Dean to take with him.

* * *

 

Cas walks Dean to his room.

Dean hides the pie in his dresser so he can finish it tomorrow.

Cas stays with him until he falls asleep. He kisses his forehead and whispers “Happy birthday, Dean. _My_ wish on your birthday is that I get to spend all the rest of your birthdays with you.”


	42. Will You Be My Valentine?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is easy when Dean is involved, Cas knows this... yet he still tries... all the time.  
> Dean and Cas had discussed all the holidays between November and May (the final month of Dean's eighteen-month inpatient sentence) and the only one Dean gave in and let Cas arrange is Valentine's ... How is Dean going to deal with Cas's little series of surprises?

It’s Saturday morning, a little over a week after Dean’s birthday, and he is sitting in the dayroom playing checkers with some old guy who farts a lot and calls everyone Bob.

“HA! King me!” Dean cheers. His smile quickly drops when he looks up, and the old dude is busy picking his nose.

“Ew! Yeah, we’re done.” Dean meanders down to his room.  He heads straight into his bathroom, washes his hands, pees, and washes his hands - again, cringing at how gross some people are. He grabs his mp3 and plugs in his earbuds, setting the music to random and strolls down the hall back to the dayroom, humming along to the Chemical Brothers. The sound is soothing and he lets the music flow over him, not paying any attention to the kooks around him. He closes his eyes and leans against the wall nodding his head and tapping his fingers on his thigh. He loves all the music that Cas put on his mp3, even the stuff by Lorde - Biting Down plays next and his mind wanders to thoughts of Cas.

He feels someone breaching his bubble and his skin prickles, sending a shiver of alarm down his spine. Frowning, he squints open his eyes, expecting he will need to move or fight for his space and possessions. Instead, his eyes fall on the brilliant smile and sparkling blue eyes of none other than Cas himself. His gorgeous boyfriend is standing just out of arm's reach, because Cas is all kinds of amazing and knows how to not totally freak Dean out - or get himself punched for startling him. Dean returns the smile and pushes himself off the wall, wrapping himself in Cas’s strong arms.

Cas kisses Dean’s temple and hears Hollywood Undead playing in Dean’s ears. He gently pulls the earbuds out and holds Dean’s face as he plants a kiss on his lips.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” Dean practilly swoons as Cas runs his fingers through his hair and presses their cheeks together. “You know it’s Saturday. Right?”

“Yes, I do. Smartass. I’m here on a very special mission.”

“Oh, yeah?” What kind of mission?” Dean grins playfully, pushing his hands into Cas’s back pockets.

Cas smirks, “We’re going shopping!”

“Huh?” Dean cocks his head, trying not to pout.

“Shopping. I am taking you to a store.” Cas enunciates exaggeratedly.

Dean pinches his butt, “I know what shopping means, asshole. But, why do you need me to go shopping with you?”

Cas squirms away and rubs his butt cheek, “Because, you abusive fucker, I want to make sure the clothes fit properly. Dean reaches toward Cas’s ass again and Cas steps back. “You don’t get to pinch me again.”

Dean looks scandalized, “I would never… one little pinch for bein’ an asshole, that’s it. Can I kiss it better, now?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, reaching towards Cas again.

Cas grabs his hand, “How ‘bout we go get you dressed so we can get outa here?”

“I like that idea, too!” Dean smiles.

* * *

 Cas parks in front of Knot Standard, one of the top men’s clothiers in Austin, known for their bespoke suits and top of the line selections. Cas knows it may be a bit much but Dean deserves to be spoiled, at least once in a while, and the cost is not an issue for him.

“Cas, this place is kinda fancy. You sure we can’t go to the mall instead?”

“Not for the suits I want to get us, Baby.” Cas reaches out to stroke Dean’s cheek, but Dean turns and begins pacing the length of the storefront.

“Why?” Dean questions, biting the skin around his thumbnail.

“Dean, what about this is upsetting you? It’s just a store.”

“Fuck, Cas! Look at me. I can’t go in there!” Dean’s voice is tight and louder than necessary.

Cas leans against the brick wall, crossing one arm across his middle and bringing the other hand to his face, dropping his head in defeat. He can feel Dean pacing and stopping to look in the window again before he turns to pace some more. Cas knows that Dean will pitch a fit if he forces him. He also knows there’s a chance that he can talk him down and get him into the shop. He sighs, debating his options, peeking at Dean through his fingers.

“Fine. Can you handle fuckin’ Macy's?” He grouses, wiping his hand down his face and digging for his keys. Pushing himself off the wall, he doesn’t look at Dean, he just strides toward the truck.

Dean stands stock still, shocked, gaping at Cas’s back as he walks away. “Cas?” He calls, “That’s it? You not gonna fight? You just give up?”

Cas stops a few yards away, turning to face Dean, “No, Dean. I’m not going to fight you  over this. You don’t want to do this so… fine. Get in the truck.”

Dean stares at him for a moment, “No.”

“What?”

“No! I’m not getting in the truck.”

“What the hell, Dean?” Cas raises his arms out in question then drops them, his hands slapping against his legs.

Dean bites his nails, glares at Cas, looks into the store window, and back at Cas, “I’m fuckin’ up your special plans.”

“What?” Cas calls from the parking lot, annoyed because yeah, Dean is being a dick about this whole thing.

Dean storms past the few cars separating them, stopping just before slamming right into Cas. He places his hand on Cas’s chest and shoves him back.

“What the fuck, Dean!?” Cas yells, stepping up and fisting Dean’s jacket. “You think you can fuckin’ shove me?”

Dean narrows his eyes, “I just did.” He growls.

Cas’s heart is pounding and he tightens his grip on Dean’s jacket, he stares right back into Dean’s angry eyes, feeling his free hand curl into a fist. “Listen, you smartass fucker, you don't get to lash out and physically attack me just because you’re too scared to step inside that store - or for any other fuckin’ reason! You will use your fucking words, goddammit!” He shouts - instead of punching Dean square in the face.

“I TRIED, asshole! You got mad and ran off! You gave up on me!” Dean shouts, “You…” His face changes, all the anger slipping away, sadness and fear takes its place. “You gave up on me,” he whispers.

Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, “No, I… I didn’t. I didn’t… I ‘m not…” Dean is still stiff in his arms and Cas rakes his fingers through the hair at the back of Dean’s head and down his neck. Dean finally settles his hands on Cas’s hips, dropping his forehead to Cas’s shoulder.

“Dean,” Cas sniffs and lets out a shaky breath, “Baby, I’ll never give up on you.”

“But, you didn’t try to make me do what you wanted. You just gave up and decided to leave. You just got mad and walked away.” Dean says into the hollow between their chests.

Cas lifts Dean’s face to his, “You’re right, I didn’t encourage you. I didn’t urge you to move past some… some comfort zone or … fear or whatever the fuck was going on inside that head of yours. Instead, I - very poorly - settled for plan B… not that I even had a plan B.” He caresses his thumbs over Dean’s cheekbones. “I acted like a brat, throwing a tantrum because I didn’t get my way.” He huffs out a watery laugh, looking up at the sky before looking back into Dean’s eyes. “Valentine is the only holiday you said I get to plan. Maybe, I planned something too fancy… but, you wrote it on your bucket list, so I figured it was something you’d be okay with.”

“Wait. What?”

“Neither of us have a nice new suit for a ‘Real dress-up date’, Dean.” Cas shrugs his shoulders. “I just thought…”

“Awe, Cas. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” He covers Cas’s hands with his own and kisses both of Cas’s palms, then pulls him in and wipes the unshed tears from his eyes. “Cas, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Baby. We both acted like idiots. You’re right, I gave up. But not on you, I gave up on me, on my idea. So, can we start over?”

“If you promise that you’re big plan includes real food on our date and not some fancy-tiny-portion French restaurant with snails and squid.”

Cas nods, “I promise.”

Dean laces his fingers with Cas’s kissing his knuckles and sighs, “Let’s go buy some fuckin’ expensive suits.” The smile Cas gives him takes away any ill feelings or left over nerves about facing the attitudes of some uppity exclusive shop workers.

The door chimes when Cas pushes it open.

“Ah, Mr. Novak. We thought you changed your mind.” A tall man with grey hair and a welcoming smile greets them. “My name is Jonathan and this is Marcus. We will be attending to you gentlemen today.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” Cas shakes his hand, “Please, call me Castiel. This is my partner, Dean Winchester.”

“It’s a pleasure to serve you today, Mr. Winchester.” Jonathan addresses Dean as they shake hands.

“Dean, uh, please, call me Dean.”

Marcus also greets them both, then leads them to a private area with a couple of club chairs, a low table, and a large set of mirrors.

“Would you like some coffee, or other refreshments?” Marcus asks.

“Coffee would be nice.” Cas answers. Marcos nods and leaves them alone for a few minutes.

Dean scans the room, peeking behind curtains and testing the mirrors. “Holy crap, Cas. People actually shop like this?” He stage-whispers.

“Yes, Baby. People like you and me.”

“Hey, look at the size of this changing room.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows, smirking at Cas.

“Settle down. Suits first.” Cas chuckles.

Dean leans over Cas, placing his hands on the arms of the club chair, straddling and bumping Cas’s knees with his. “And after suit shopping...?”

Cas looks up at him, “Lunch.”

Dean lowers his butt onto Cas’s knees and brings his face closer, “...after lunch?”

Cas closes the gap and captures Dean’s lips. “That depends on how you behave while we’re here.”

Dean slides his hands along the chair resting them behind Cas. “How is it you want me to behave?”

Cas reaches up and places one finger on Dean’s lips, “Well mannered, and not like a little shit.”

Jonathan and Marcus enter the room with a tray of coffee and two racks of clothes.

“Wow.” Dean stumbles back and sits in the chair next to Cas.

The next three hours are filled with a myriad of fabrics and styles. Jonathan is an expert and under his guidance, Marcus helps them narrow it to two styles each. After a short break, Marcus and Jonathan take out the unnecessary items and return with a selection of shirts, ties, and other accessories. Cas tries on his two final suits, each with a couple of different shirts and accessories. Jonathan watches Dean’s reaction each time Cas steps out.

“Yes. The Loro Piana pinstripe in charcoal. I agree, Dean.” Dean shoots him a questioning look because he didn’t say anything. “But not that tie.” He pulls out a barely-grey shirt and a red and light grey check pocket square with a red silk tie.

Marcus assists Cas with the changes and when Cas steps out, the look on Dean’s face is exactly the reaction Jonathan expects.

“Perfect.” Jonathan claps, “Marcus, you’ve chalked and noted the adjustments necessary?”  

“Yes, sir.”

Jonathan watches Cas carefully as Dean tries on his clothing. Cas is not quite as easy to read as Dean, but he knows what he is looking for.

“No, no, Marcus, something is not quite right. Will you please retrieve the Petrol he tried earlier?” Marcus nods and rushes out and quickly returns with the requested item.

“Please, Dean, if you will.” He motions toward the changing room.

Dean steps out in the final suit with a striped shirt, navy and green floral tie, and a sienna dot pocket square. Jonathan catches the glint in Cas’s eyes.

“Yes, we have a winner.” Jonathan claps and rushes Dean back into the changing room. 

* * *

 Cas hits the drive-thru at Burger King on the edge of town.

“Hey, Cas, why drive-thru?”

Cas grabs Dean’s hand and puts it on his uncomfortably hard dick.

“Oh. OH!!” Dean grins, “Want me to…” He looks down and squeezes Cas’s bulge, a whimper slips through Cas’s lips.

“I want you to open my burger and hand it to me.” Dean happily obeys. They finish eating before they make it to the house.

Dean pushes Cas against the French doors as soon as they enter the studio.He drops to his knees and has Cas’s jeans and boxers around his knees in seconds.

* * *

 Cas brings Dean his suit on the Tuesday before Valentine’s Day and Eleanor keeps it locked in her office for him since he doesn’t have an actual closet. During their session they discuss the plans for their date, well Cas shares an overview, not wanting to give everything away. Valentine’s is on Thursday and Cas is to pick Dean up at six o’clock. Dean gets to spend the weekend with Cas, which Dean thinks is the best part of the whole deal.

Dean gets scolded during group session because when he’s asked to share, he just flips the bird to the room announcing “See you suckers next week, ‘cuz I’m headin’ out for a fancy date and lots of hot sex.” Eleanor knows he’s acting out because he’s excited and nervous, but she still has to put him in his place with a firm warning.

Under Eleanor’s instruction, Jimmy helps Dean get ready later in the afternoon. Letting him listen to music, Jimmy jokes with him and takes his mind off the time in an attempt to help him stay calm.

“Hey, buddy. Castiel dropped this off, too.” He holds up a bottle of men’s cologne. “He asked if you would wear it. Man, it smells really nice, a lot better than this place.”

Dean sniffs it and considers for a moment, “How much do I use?”

“Oh my God! Haven't you ever watched Queer Eye? The Kyan classic! Spray, delay and walk away!” Jimmy laughs and demonstrates. “Let’s do this so you can finish getting dressed.”

Dean follows his example and laughs as he sashay’s through the faint scent of earth and flowers. “That’s it?”

“Yup, Castiel’s going to love it.”

As they head for the lobby, Dean is laughing at Jimmy’s impression of Tan. “Shut up, If I could get my hair to stand up…” Jimmy breaks off. “Dude...” He points at the bottom of the stairs.

Dean stops in his tracks and stairs down at Cas.

“Dude, go.” Jimmy whispers and nudges him.

Dean starts down the stairs, taking in Cas’s silhouette and the perfect cut of his suit. He looks regal, standing tall and proud, one hand in his pocket and the other behind his back. ‘ _Prince Charming,_ ’ Dean thinks. He takes a deep breath before placing his foot on the first stair, down to the most amazing man in existence.

Cas watches as Dean descends the stairs, taking him in from shiny black shoes to perfect hair. Their eyes lock and everything in his periphery blurs into nothingness. Cas stares, unblinking, afraid to miss even one second, until his eyes burn and he slowly blinks. Opening his eyes again, all he can focus on is beautiful forest green eyes coming closer.

Dean takes the last few steps and Cas hands him a long stem red rose. Dean gasps and smiles softly, breaking eye contact for the first time, so he can admire the perfect, barely-opened rose. He blinks and looks back into Cas’s deep blue eyes as Cas cradles his face in his hands.

“Will you be my Valentine?”

Dean nods, “Yes, always.”

Cas smiles, kissing Dean with the most loving, close mouthed kiss Dean has ever experienced.

They finally part and the world crashes in around them with the cheers of everyone in the lobby. They run out of the building hand-in-hand, smiling so much it hurts. When they’re in the truck, Dean grabs Cas’s jaw and brings him in for another searing kiss.

“You got a haircut... and a shave.”

“You noticed?” Cas bites his lower lip, feeling a bit awkward after fighting with his stupid hair to get it to behave the way Scott did.

“How did you make it do that? It’s all combed and tidy.” Dean reaches up to touch.

“Yes - and keep your hands away!” He slaps Dean’s away, “At least through dinner. Scott gave me some pomade - shut up - it’s working.”

“It’s definitely working for me.” Dean grins, “I swear, I’ll do my very best not to mess up your hair… yet.”

“Thank you.”

Dean stares at Cas’s profile while he drives. “I miss those little curls. Behind your ears.” He leans his head on the back glass and continues staring at his favorite person.

* * *

 Cas parks in front of an unassuming building. Dean looks around, wondering if this is the right place.

“Wink?” Dean sees the black circle sign with the simple word in all small letters.

“Yes, _Wink_ is the name of the restaurant, Baby. Now, the food is fancier than we usually have, but it’s going to taste good and you’re not going to starve. We’ve discussed this. The place is definitely upscale and a lot fancier than Harvelle’s, but the atmosphere is calm and welcoming. You’re going to be fine, I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Dean nods, “I trust you, Cas. Tonight you are my Prince Charming, and I’m proud to be the Princess on your arm.” Dean is rewarded with a blinding smile from Cas.

With his rose in one hand and Cas’s hand in the other Dean walks into the restaurant with his shoulders squared and his head held high. They are greeted pleasantly and seated immediately.

A waitress brings a tall slim glass, “A vase for your rose, sir?”

“Thank you.” Dean smiles at the young woman. He watches as the staff move about, tending to the patrons. Everyone is smiling and happy., There is a murmur of cheerful chatter and quiet laughter and the background music is soothing but not boring. Dean looks at how the dining room is arranged to give each table a sense of privacy without it feeling sparse or awkward. The place seems full, couples out for a special Valentine date, just like him and Cas.

“Cas, this place is amazing.” Dean reaches across the table and takes Cas’s hand in his. The soft smile on Cas’s face makes Dean feel like his insides are made of liquid, Cas looks all warm and soft and beautiful.

“You really like it?” Cas rubs his thumb over Dean’s knuckles.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “I’m a little nervous about the food, but I trust you. Prince Charming.” He grins and winks at Cas. A heated look crosses Cas’s face just as the waiter brings their first appetizer.

There is no need for fussing over a menu or for Dean to fret over what he might want to choose. Cas had given already their preferences when he made the reservation. Cas had requested the seven course Chef’s tasting menu. He knows that Dean might balk at some of the items if he knows what they are. Instead, he hopes that the excitement of the evening and the beautifully arranged dishes will encourage him to try everything.

Dean worriedly glances at Cas as the waiter pours the wine.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart. You have sparkling water if you don't like or want the wine. There will be different wines to sample throughout the meal.”

Dean nods and looks at the flowery arrangement of food on his plate.

Cas kisses the back of Dean’s hand, “Everything is edible, Princess. Remember, try it all, if you don’t like it, don't finish it. No pressure.” Dean nods and picks up his fork. Cas’s heart swells with joy as he watches the amazement on Dean’s face when he likes what he tries.

By the third course, Dean is calm and talking animatedly with Cas about the meal, his latest drawings, Cas’s current paintings, and life at the Center. By the fifth course, Dean isn’t even questioning the food, their conversation quiets to genuine expressions of love and plans for the near future.

“I thought about surprising you, but I think you’d prefer to be a part of this...” Cas pauses while the waiter arranges their next course.

Dean takes a sip of the wine, frowning and taking a drink of his water.

Cas laughs, “I think it's clear that you are not a lover of wine. You don’t have to keep tasting it.”

“Maybe, but it’s fun. I may not like the wine, but they all taste a little different, sorta like varying levels of nasty.” He snickers as Cas thumps the back of his hand, huffing at him indignantly.

“Hey, at least you know I’m not gonna end up some wino!” Dean laughs.

“No, just forever the infernal brat.”

Dean rubs Cas’s calf with his foot. “But I’m your brat.” He stares longingly into Cas’s eyes. Cas blinks slowly and clears his throat.

“Um,” Cas gulps. “The.. yeah, um … oh apartment.” Cas stutters while Dean smirks.

“What apartment?”

“The one over the garage. You need a place, Doc’s orders. You haven’t even seen it yet. It’s two bedroom, bath and a half, full kitchen and living room. I think we should decorate it to suit you.”

“And you, Cas.”

Cas reaches over and cups Dean’s face with his hand., “Princess, this will be _your_ apartment. Your place to retreat anytime you want. I’m more than willing to live with you _anywhere_. But you need to know that the space is yours, not mine. You have complete control of the apartment.”

“But Cas, you own it.”

“I _own_ the property. I own lots of stuff … but the apartment is all yours. Or would you prefer one of the locations on the Doc’s list?”

“Oh hell no. I’ll take the apartment.”

“Seal the deal?”

“Huh?”

“Kiss me, Princess.”

Dean leans in and meets Cas over the table.

“That's what I like to see, happy customers.”

They look up at the man smiling down at them, he motions for the waiter to clear their plates and presents their desserts.

“Good evening, I apologize for not greeting your earlier. But I certainly didn’t want the evening to pass without making my acquaintance with you and your partner, Mr. Novak. My name is Stewart Scruggs, co-owner and tonight's Chef.” He shakes hands with Cas. Cas introduces Dean and they exchange pleasantries.

“Do you know me?” Cas asks looking around the room. “Or are you this attentive to all your guests?”

The Chef clears his throat and actually looks a bit bashful for a split second. “I have to admit, I’m a fan. One of your works hangs in my home.”

Dean beams with pride.

“Thank you, Chef Scruggs. Dean and I have thoroughly enjoyed our meal. Tonight will be etched in my memory, forever.” Cas glances at Dean before returning his smile to the Chef.

“You are too kind, Mr. Novak. Perhaps you will honor us with your next special occasion?” He looks between them, “It has been a joy to serve you, gentlemen. Have a pleasant evening.” He shakes their hands and returns to the kitchen.

Dean traces his finger through the chocolate dripping over the edges of his cake. Slowly bringing it up to his lips, he sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth. Smiling devilishly around his finger. “My boyfriend has fans… rich famous fans.” He sing-songs and wipes more chocolate off his plate.

Cas grabs his hand and brings it to his own mouth, sucking the chocolate off and staring intently into Dean’s eyes as he takes his finger fully into his mouth, pulling it out only to nip at the tip.

“Eat your cake, Princess.” His voice pitched low.

* * *

 

Cas pushes Dean against the passenger door of the truck. Dean brings his hands up but pauses, Cas nods and Dean runs his fingers through Cas’s hair as they languidly kiss. Dean gripping his rose over Cas’s shoulder. They break for some much needed oxygen and Cas opens the door for Dean.

“I’ve been dying to do that since I laid eyes on you. You look so delicious… So regal and sooo fuckin’ hot.” Dean’s hand is on Cas’s chest and he can feel his heart pounding. “I can’t wait to slowly undress you.”

Cas brings him in for another kiss. “Baby,” Cas mouths along Dean’s jawline and sucks his earlobe, breathing heated air as he licks the shell of Dean’s ear, “I saved the soft… sheer… red fabric from Christmas.”

Dean inhales sharply and slides his hand down Cas’s body. “Take me home.”


	43. Time Marches On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a special warning for this chapter.  
> The incident appears in a memory, but I want to be sure everyone is aware before you start this chapter.  
> There is an intense therapy session where Dean goes into a regression and shares details about things that happened when he was a small child.  
>  **So I am warning you here for the detailed memory of Pedophilia.**

Cas has the art class working on posters and decorations for the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day party. This year the Center is aligning the monthly family day event with the holiday. Most of the chatter in class is about who is going to be on the bus to go watch the parade downtown. Dean laughs with Ash as the man waxes poetic about the joys of green beer. Eleanor stops by and praises the class on their projects, she and Cas stand at the front of the room and discuss the party decorations and other logistics necessities for the day.

“Dammit, Ash! Stop!” Dean grouses and grabs his paper and starts ripping it up storming towards the trash can.

“Dean. Hey! What’s happened?” Cas rushes to his side.

“Fuckin’ Ash! He fuckin’ ruined it!”

Cas takes the torn poster from Dean, placing his hand on the small of his back, tracing his fingers along the strip of skin just above his jeans. From past experience, he knows this sort of touch usually helps Dean calm down fairly quickly.

“Ash.” Cas looks at the paper, noting what upset Dean so much. “You must stop drawing dicks on other people’s things.”

Ash laughs, “It’s a three leaf clover, man.”

“No, Ash. It’s a dick and obviously Dean didn’t want it on his poster. You need to keep your artistic expressions on your own papers.”

“Why not? He sure likes _your_ dick!” Ash sasses and kicks his feet up on the table.

“ASH!” Cas scolds…

“MOTHERFUCKER!!” Dean lunges, fist pulled back, ready to swing.

Cas grabs Dean around the waist, pushing him backwards and against the wall, he holds him there as he asks the orderly and Eleanor to take Ash out.

“Dean, stop. Look at me.”

Dean heaves and snarls as the orderly walks Ash out of the room.

“Baby -” Cas holds Dean against the wall with one arm across his chest while he rubs up and down Dean’s arm with the other. He notices that Dean goes quiet as soon as the door clicks shut, but that he is also still staring at the exit.

“Look at me, Baby.” Cas repeats.

Dean finally looks at Cas, his bright green eyes are clouded over with anger and can’t seem to stop glancing at the door.

“Shh, just look at _me_ , Dean. Breathe with me, deep and slow, you know how.” Cas takes a few cleansing breaths, bringing one of Dean’s hands to rest on his chest.

Dean’s fist slowly unclinches and he presses his palm over Cas’s heart. His breathing becomes much calmer even though he is still tense.

“You back with me?”

Dean blinks and nods. Cas gives him a small smile and takes his weight off Dean, smooths his shirt and pats his chest.

“Go wash your paint brushes, Dean.” Dean nods and does as he’s told.

Cas turns around and the entire class is silently watching the encounter.

“Way to go, Mr. N.” Ed pipes up.

“Yeah, way to stop the carnage before it starts,” Ruby deadpans. “We almost had some excitement.”

“That’s enough. Please, hang your artwork to dry and begin cleaning all this up.” Cas gestures at the tables cluttered with art supplies. He doesn’t want to hear any more smartass remarks and tries hard to keep his voice level and sound calm.

“But, class isn’t over yet.” Aimee whines.

“PLEASE!” Cas bellows. Pinching the bridge of his nose he sighs, “Please.” Calming himself more, he asks, “Matthew, will you please assist them in their clean-up and escort them out?”

“Sure, Mr. Novak,” the orderly replies.

The patients murmur and complain as they clean up the room, shooting glances at Cas and Dean, but never daring to say anything to either man.

“Thank you. I apologize for the shortened class. We’ll make it up another time, okay? Enjoy your free-time before lunch.” Cas stands with his hand on the doorknob while the class exits.

Dean sits quietly in his usual seat, staring at his hands.

“Do you want to take a walk?” Cas asks as he locks the supply cabinet. Dean shakes his head, still focusing on his hands.

“Will you talk to me, please?”

Dean shakes his head, pauses and slowly nods. “I wanna go lay down,” he answers softly.

Cas sits next to him, “Alone?”

Dean shakes his head and leans toward Cas, dropping his head on his shoulder.

They walk - close but not quite touching -  to Dean’s room. Cas waits for Dean to initiate; that’s how it always happens when he gets like this. Voice and contact are the first to go and sometimes touch takes a little longer to return. Sometimes the touch is inappropriate and Cas has to deny him until he can use his words.

Dean crawls into his bed and pats the mattress next to him. Cas climbs in with him, pulling the covers over them both. Dean finds Cas’s arm and wraps it around his chest, pulling him close, until Cas’s front is pressed against Dean’s back. Dean hugs Cas’s hand close to him as if he were holding a security blanket and not an arm that is still attached to another person.n a silent apology for causing such a ruckus in class, Dean presses his lips to each of Cas’s fingers.

Cas kisses the back of Dean’s neck and whispers, “Sleep now, Sweetheart.”

Cas didn’t mean to fall asleep, so when he wakes with a start and finds himself alone in Dean’s bed, he has a moment of panic. Sitting up quickly, he scans the room. The toilet flushes and Dean steps out of the bathroom, catching Cas’s startled gaze. Cas sighs out a tense breath and flops back on the bed.

“Dean.” His voice full of relief. Dean gives him a small smile and Cas gets up and crosses the room, laying a hand on Dean’s waist.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dean mumbles.

“Are you willing to discuss what happened in class?”

“Now?” Dean asks, sounding defeated.

“After lunch? I’m sure Eleanor will be interested to hear your side.”

“My side? Versus who - You?” Dean suddenly barks.

“What? Of course not. The conflict was between you and Ash.” Cas tilts his head trying to get Dean to look at him. “Dean, are you angry with _me_?”

“I… no. I just… I, I’m… shit, Cas, I’m sorry.”  Dean flexes his hands at his sides, shifting ever so slightly side-to-side.

Cas can feel the tension coursing through Dean’s body; he runs his hand under Dean’s t-shirt, up his ribs to his chest, stopping over his thrumming heart. Cas leans close, “Your heart is really racing, Baby.” He whispers, moving to kiss Dean below his ear.

Dean aggressively grips Cas’s wrists, quickly turning and bracketing him against the wall. He presses their hands to its surface on either side of Cas’s head capturing his lips. Dean keeps his body just millimeters away, only touching with his lips. Cas moans and Dean slips his tongue past Cas’s teeth battling for dominance inside Cas’s mouth. Cas tries to bring their bodies together, but Dean keeps adjusting to keep them from touching, continuing his sensual assault.

Cas tugs his arms and arches his back in an attempt to make contact or take control of the situation, “Mfhh, Baby…”

Dean steps back, still holding Cas’s wrists, still not giving in to touching or being touched. The look in his eyes causes Cas to shiver with a mix of emotions - want, need, and fear are at the top of the list. Dean lets go of Cas’s hands as he slowly continues to step back. Cas immediately reaches for him, but Dean takes a quick step back and holds up his hand in a “wait a minute” motion along with a tiny shake of his head.

“Babe, you’re killing me here.” Cas huffs out as he falls back against the wall.

Dean stands in the center of his room, staring at Cas. “I…” he clears his throat and tries again, “I want it, too. But…” He looks down at his hands, too many thoughts playing in his mind to speak the one that needs to be said at this moment.

“But - what, Baby?” Cas watches Dean’s face, he can tell that his mind is whirring with some sort of battle. “Hey, can you look at me?” he asks softly.

Dean shakes his head, sitting down on the floor, resting his elbows on his hand and burying his face in his hands. Cas quickly comes to sit in front of him, close but not touching.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Too loud.” Dean rubs his temples.

“Let it out, Dean. Tell me what’s going on in there?” Cas gently requests.

“Too much. Hurts.” Dean presses the heels of his hands against his forehead.

“Shh, I’m here. Let me help? May I touch?” Dean moans and winces in pain from his headache, his whole body too tense. “Let me rub your neck? Release some of that tension?”

“‘kay,” Dean whispers.

Cas moves behind him and lays his hands on his back, feeling Dean twitch from the simplest contact. Slowly he moves his hands up to massage Dean’s neck and shoulders. It takes a few minutes before Cas feels any sign of release, but finally, slowly, Dean’s shoulders begin to drop.

“Lunchtime, guys.” Jimmy raps his knuckles on Dean’s open door. He meets Cas’s eyes with a confused glance, even from the doorway he can tell how tense Dean is. “Need the Doc?” He mouths and Cas nods. Jimmy acknowledges, giving a thumbs up and turns to leave.

“Baby, you wanna try to eat?” Dean gives a small shake of his head. “Okay. That’s okay.” He continues to massage Dean’s neck and shoulders, feeling him gradually relax.

A few minutes later, Dr. Fritz and Eleanor step quietly into the room.

“Hey, Dean,” Dr. Fritz greets, Dean jerks but doesn't look or reply.  “How about we go sit in Eleanor’s office? It has to be more comfortable than the floor.”

Dean whines, knowing it’s not a request. Cas helps him up and they follow the women to the office. Dean sits in his usual chair and Cas sits nearby on the couch.

“Dean,” Dr. Fritz begins, “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Head hurts.”

“Okay, I’ve got some acetaminophen here for you, will you please take this?”

Dean holds out his hand to accept the pills, swallowing them and gulping down a full glass of water.

“Alright, now, talk to me.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“Just feel… too much.” He closes his eyes and holds he head in his hands. “Thoughts too loud. Feels sharp, like screaming.” His words come out clipped and slightly slurred.

“Share some of those thoughts with me, Dean. Whichever words come to the surface”

Dean pauses, trying to grasp onto the words, trying to catch his thoughts.

“Scary. Weak. Alone. Wrong.” Dean looks up at Dr. Fritz, “Gonna lock me up, if I say the wrong things, they won’t let me go. I never say the right things. I hate it there.”

“Where? Who do you think is going to lock you up?”

“The judge is gonna send me to state. It’s dirty and loud. I hate it.”

“Dean, the judge responsible for your case receives our monthly reports. He knows how well you have been doing. Going to court is a formality.” Eleanor chimes in to help Dean understand that the court appearance is just a formal closing to his eighteen-month sentence.

“But I keep messin’ up. I can’t be good enough. I don’t deserve… I shouldn’t be around _normal_ people.” He stands up, clenching his fists and begins to pace his usual circle around the office. “I’m poison. I break everything. Worthless trash. Just another broken thing.”

Cas gasps at the angry, self-deprecating tone and words. He thought Dean was past some of this. That he knows he isn’t worthless, especially to Cas. He rubs his hands on his thighs and watches Dean pace. Cas is on the edge between frightened and protective, sad and angry. He wants to walk out and stand in the sunshine but needs to stay and be here for Dean. He jumps when Dean shouts.

“Fuck you!” Dean yells, not looking at anyone in the room, his hands cover his face,  
“Fuck you! I hate you! Hate you!”

“Who do you hate, Dean?” Dr. Fritz keeps her voice calm and her tone level.

“All of them!” His fists in his hair, “ALL OF THEM!” He screams, “Alastair! Bobby! Henrickson! Charlie! Wilsons! Daniels! Petersons! Taylors! Win… Winchesters.“ All the names coming out in one long exhaustive torrent. He leans against the shelf of toys and books, trying to catch his breath.

“You hate them, everyone you named?”

Dean faces the shelves, resting his head on a stuffed animal. “They lied! Everybody lies! Everybody leaves. Every….” He takes a shaky breath, “Everybody … hurts me.” He knocks a row of dolls and stuffed animals off the shelf and screams, clutching his head, and dropping to his knees. “Everybody leaves.” He picks up a brown bear with a purple bow tie, gripping it tight, staring into the plastic, carmel colored eyes. “Wanna leave, make’em stop, too scared, too weak, too useless. Stupid doormat, can’t leave, can’t. Stupid, stupid. Stupid! Just take it, take it all! You child, you useless stupid child!” Dean yells and shakes the silent, soft, bright-eyed bear.

Cas looks between Dean and Eleanor. He recognizes those names. He read them in Dean’s file, foster families, caregivers from Dean’s childhood.

Dean sits still and quiet for a few minutes. Cas wonders if his tantrum is over and watches wide-eyed as Dean gently pets the teddy on top of its head, wiping the soft hair back and seeming to ‘fix’ the toys fur neatly.

“Shut up, can’t tell, never tell. Tell and you get worse.” Dean speaks softly to the bear, ignoring everyone else in the room. “Mommy likes bathtime with lots and lots of bubbles. Sarah’s always mad, she’s just jealous because Mommy locks the door at bathtime.”

Cas’s mouth drops open, he gapes at Dr. Fritz, feeling more than a little freaked out. She silently tells him to wait and let Dean get this out the way he needs.

Dr. Fritz has seen Dean regress before, shutting her out and relating a story or event the best way his mind will allow him. Sometimes it is through art, drawing or sculpting with playdough. Other times he simply looks out the window while he talks. Rarely, but there have been times, he reacts in a childlike manner and talks to doll or stuffed animal, teddy bears being his favorite. Dr. Fritz allows him enough time and space to tell his story, as long as he is not acting out in anger. Cas on the other hand has never seen Dean quite this far out of his usual character and its frightening.

“Bubbles are fun, and Mommy’s hands are softer than Tom’s.” Dean pretends to wash the bear, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched in front of him.  “You have to stand up and let Mommy wash you real good.” He rubs his hand between the bears legs, then hugs the toy, pressing its face against his chest. “Warm bath hugs are Mommy’s favorite and baby’s skin feels soft and warm.” He freezes his ministrations, frowning at the bear. “Shh, never tell Sarah, or Tom will have to discipline you. Now, it’s time to wrap up in a big fluffy towel and take a nap in Mommy’s room.” Dean lays his head on the pile of soft toys and holds the brown bear close, curling up to face the wall.

Dr. Fritz raises one finger. “Give him a few minutes,” she whispers. “He’ll most likely take a brief nap. These emotional experiences are quite exhausting.”

“What the…? Did that…? ...How old was he?” Cas finally asks, his mind barely hanging on to the idea that this was an actual memory from Dean’s early childhood. Things that never made it into any CPS file.

“Five or six at most. The Taylors, Tom and Stacey, were his first foster family. Sarah was their daughter, she was about eleven when they took him in. She tried to tell the CPS officer what was happening, that it had happened before, but the parents were always in the room and the officer never met with the girl separately. Dean was sent back to the State Children's Center in Topeka when Sarah ran away from home. The family was deemed to be under too much duress to care for a foster child while their own child was missing. The girl was found two weeks later in an abandoned building...she had been dead over a week according to the coroner's report. She was chained to a pipe on a broken wall and had starved to death.”

Cas slumps back into the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. “Oh my God, I had no idea it was this bad. He mentioned a few things in passing, but… Jesus, what six year old needs to be bathed by his foster mother? Especially not like… _that_.” He wipes his face with his hands. “That poor little girl.” His voice is shaky and his eyes burn with unshed tears.

“Castiel,” Dr. Fritz sits next to him on the couch. “It may look as though Dean isn’t doing well, that perhaps he’s having a set back. What with his headaches and angry outbursts, and this scene. But, listen to me when I tell you that as difficult as this is - Dean is making tremendous progress. He is scared because he’s facing things that have been repressed for a long, long time. He needs consistency, understanding, and support, now, more than ever.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Doc. Yeah, this may be mind blowing, scary shit. But hell, under all the pain and anger is the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. I will support him, however he needs. Dean is the first person in my life that has ever needed me for - _me_. Not my money, or my uncle’s power, or so they could use me to fulfill their materialistic needs.” Cas’s lips quirk up a the corners in a small smile when he thinks of his special times with Dean, “He told me that I’m his ‘person’, he loves me and needs me - that’s huge, Doc. And my feelings for him are just as strong. I want him to have the chance to live his dreams. Supporting him is never going to be a problem for me.”

Dr. Fritz, Eleanor, and Cas are still talking in hushed tones couple of minutes later when Dean sits up, rubbing his eyes and looking at the mess of toys around him. Cas can’t help but smile lovingly while he watches as Dean yawns and wipes the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Aw, shit, Eleanor. I’m sorry,” he begins pulling the toys into his lap. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.

“It’s okay, Dean.” Eleanor replies, “Would you like Castiel to help you put them back on the shelf?”

Dean stares at Cas as if he’s forgotten he’s in the room, “Um, if he wants.”

“Ask _him_ , Dean.”

“Cas, you wanna help me pick up all these dolls? You… you don’t have to… I can do it.”

Cas’s smile grows into a full toothy grin. _THIS_ , this is the person he wants to be with - for the rest of his life. Scars, jagged edges, the crazy twists and turns, and all the attitude and emotions - Cas will take all of it if it means that he also gets that look… _right there_ \- pure love shines in those complicated green depths.

“Sure, Babe. Show me how they go, will ya?”

Together they put away all the toys quickly. Dean doesn’t let go of the little brown bear with the purple bow tie, even taking it with him to sit on the couch next to Cas.

Dean plays with the bears ears, contemplating before he speaks again. “I… I don’t hate Charlie. I tried to, wanted to … I was mad at her for leaving and for dying, but she didn’t die. I was, um, still mad after she came back, really angry because she stayed away so long. She said she was mad at me, too. That she tried to call me, to tell me she wasn’t on that plane. But, I - I was… B-Bobby couldn’t find me. Then …” Dean hugs the bear and leans against Cas. “Then Bobby died.” Dean lets go of the toy and wraps his arms around Cas, squeezing the soft bear between them. “Cas, I was so fuckin’ high it took me a whole day to realize that his obituary was real. Cas… I don’t hate Bobby. I could never hate him. He was the first person who ever gave a damn about me. Oh God - oh fuck! ---” Dean sobs into Cas’s shirt, “I hurt _him_ , _I_ left him! I left the one person who actually cared! All that time. All those horrible people. And I… I… Caaaas.” Dean buries his face in Cas’s stomach, squeezing him tight.

Tears stream down Cas’s face while he holds Dean as he becomes a sobbing, hiccuping mess. Dean begins to cough and Cas requests a wet rag. “He’s burning up.”

Eleanor brings him a damp cloth and Cas wipes the sweat from the back of Dean’s neck,

“Babe, Can you sit up? You’re not going to cool off laying on me like that.”

Dean grunts and complies, sitting up while Cas cleans his face free of sweat and tears, and wipes the cool rag over his arms to help him cool down. Dean doesn’t fight Cas’s gentle touches, he just scrubs at his eyes and drinks the water sitting on the table next to the couch.

“This has been an intense session. Would you like to share how you’re feeling right now, Dean?” Dr. Fritz urges Dean to round off their time by expressing his current state so she can either push for more calm discussion or end the session.

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “Tired. My stomach hurts and my headache is, um, different, now.”

“Please explain how it’s different.”

Dean raises his hand to his head, touching the back and top. “It hurts more here and here, not so much behind my eyes.”

“Okay, more stress and some dehydration.” She nods, “You need to drink plenty of water. Try to eat some lunch, or at least a snack.”

“‘Kay.” Dean mumbles in response. “Am I in trouble? I mean, I got mad and was gonna… um, punch Ash.”

“Tell me why you were so angry and felt the need to hit your friend. You and Ash usually get along well.”

Dean wrings his hands, twisting the washcloth tight enough to cause the last few droplets of water to drip free. “Well, first off, he drew a big green dick on the poster I was making - and it was looking good, I was almost done. Then…” He glances at Cas warily, “Nobody gets to… um, I mean, nobody should be disrespectful to Cas like that.”

Cas opens his mouth to speak up for himself, but Dr. Fritz raises her hand for him to wait.

“Dean, how was Ash being disrespectful?”

“He uh … he was laughin’ and sayin’ that I should be okay with him drawing a dick on my paper because … um, because I like Cas’s so much.”

“But how is that disrespecting Castiel? Ash was talking about your preferences.”

“That shithead can talk about me all he wants, I don’t care. But he was pointing that homophobic garbage at Cas and I can’t allow that.”

“Next time, you need to take a moment, pause, and think before automatically throwing punches. Do you think that perhaps Castiel might have been able to handle the situation? Maybe he has an opinion of his own?”

“I-I dunno?” Dean is conflicted. He knows Cas can fend for himself, but he feels a need to protect him.

“Castiel, would you like to say something about this?”

Cas nods, wiping a hand down his face. “Yeah.” He places a hand, open and palm up close to Dean’s leg; Dean understands the request and places his hand on top, twining their fingers together.

“Dean, thank you for being willing to fight for me - literally. I love that you’re not afraid to stand-up for me and my feelings, I do. But, Sweetheart, I want nothing more than for you to turn that bravado inwards and give yourself even a portion of the love you give me.

“The stupidity that Ash was brandishing in an attempt to make up for his own self-hatred is nothing that can hurt me _or you_. Those words were unkind and un-intelligent - nothing more. Just so you know, I was going to send him to speak with Eleanor for his behavior, even before you acted. Think what could have happened if, as the teacher of the class, I was able to ask you to take your seat and had words with Ash about his attitude. Do you think that we might have been able to finish class, there were still almost twenty minutes left.

“Ash was acting quite rude, then you turned it violent. But, Dean, Baby, you’re not a violent man, you can be so kind and patient when you choose. Will you try to pause and think before acting?”

Dean nods and blinks back his tears. “Yeah. Yeah, Cas. I didn’t think, I was just so angry.”

“I think you woke up in a bad mood. But, having a bad day isn’t an excuse. Everyone has bad days. That’s when you have to focus on taking those few seconds to stop and think.”

“Castiel is right.” Dr. Fritz inserts, “We’ve discussed this before. Castiel has also shared his personal insecurities of taking his bad moods out on you, it happens to everyone. There is nothing wrong with having a bad mood or a bad day. Just remember that that’s what it is and it’s not the fault of whoever happens to be in your line of fire.”

“Yeah… I get that. I try. I just forget when I get so angry.”

“Dean, your anger is a symptom, not the cause, remember? The fear of facing things builds up and displays as anger when you hold on to it. You were able to face quite a big emotion, today. I think you’ve done a good job today, and I want you to think about what you shared - without fearing it. It is no longer a secret for you to be afraid of, you have given that burden to Eleanor, Castiel, and me. Now we are all able to help you cleanse the wound left behind by removing that piece of history. Later, after you have rested, I would like for you and Castiel to discuss your need to protect and fight on his behalf, as well as alternate methods of handling your anger, and jealousy. The final thing that you need to understand is that you are not alone when it comes to going into the courtroom. We have arranged for weekly meetings with your lawyer. Beginning this week, he will be coming here so there will be less stress on you and you will not need to be escorted down town.

Now, we’ve all missed lunch. Please go with Eleanor to get a tray. You need to eat and hydrate.”

“Okay.” Dean answers. He and Cas walk with Eleanor to the dining hall, she makes sure they receive food.

Dean and Cas sit quietly and eat before returning to Dean’s room. Cas watches Dean sleep most of the afternoon.

Every day for the rest of the week, Eleanor makes sure that Dean calls Cas. She isn't blind, she has noticed how, at times, the act of Dean simply talking with and listening to Castiel can do more good than the medication and other forms of therapy. Even early on, Dean trusted Castiel when he held back from everyone else. Additionally, while he is not a patient of The Center, she also realizes how much Cas needs Dean.

* * *

 

Sunday morning the bus is parked outside the Center to take the selected patients to the designated location on MLK Blvd. to watch the St. Patrick’s Day parade. The parade isn’t as big as the one at Christmas, but it’s exciting. There are Pipe and Drum corps, horses, dancers, floats, and a large crowd of happy people.

Dean gets a big kick out of the Dancing Divas, a dance troupe of transvestite, and gay men. Cas is afraid the poor guy is going to faint when two of the dancers skip over and pose for a photo with Dean, then with Dean and Cas. One of them gives Dean a kiss on the cheek and Dean blushes bright red. He’s done, nothing else in the parade after that holds his interest. He keeps flipping through the pictures on Cas’s phone and talking about how cool the Divas are and how he’d love to see them on stage. Cas just laughs and agrees. He keeps trying to get Dean to watch the rest of the parade, but Cas himself is having a difficult time not just staring at Dean because he enjoys seeing him so happy.

“Dean, you’re missing the Clydesdales.” That gets a glance.

“Look, Babe, it's the dancing dogs!” Dean watches the people with their dogs doing all kinds of tricks, then cranes his neck to see if he can see the end of the parade.

“Not much longer, Babe. Aren’t you having fun?”

“Yeah. I just need to... um, take a leak.”

“Calm down, you can hold it. I know for a fact that there will be a bathroom stop before we get back on the bus.”  Cas had decided to park at the Center and ride the bus to keep from having to find a parking spot downtown and to help out if needed.

Once they return to the Center, the party is in full swing. Tents on the lawn, burgers and hot dogs on the grill, and people milling around. The bus is unloaded and everyone gets their lunches, scattering to all points.

Dean and Cas find a spot at a picnic table, sharing glances, knowing smiles, and discrete touches while they listen to stories being told by the three elderly women sharing the table.


	44. April Showers Bring May Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas do some furniture shopping for the apartment... of course, it's a typical shopping trip... riiight.

The new norm.

Beginning mid-March, Dean has been allowed to spend weekends at _home_. Cas picks him up Friday afternoon and brings him back to the Center Sunday evening.

Dean’s attitude has leveled out, for the most part… meaning that his highs and lows are no longer reaching the extremes. The latest medication combo seems to be doing the trick, well that along with the support of his counselor, doctor, and Cas. The spring weather is a nice change as well. It still rains too much for Dean’s taste but the temperature is warming up and nature is coming back to life. At the Center, there has been a near complete turnover in the staff, with new nurses and orderlies bringing more knowledge and better attitudes. The atmosphere is less stressful even though the staff are still busy, constantly running to and fro dealing with a patient to staff ratio of about three to one. Still, they seem more capable of handling the workload and with more grace than many of the previous employees.

Dean sits in the day room on this particular Friday afternoon working on some drawings in his sketchbook. He has been working on a project that he wants to surprise Cas with - once it’s complete. He’s been keeping it a secret and works on it in his free time. There are several drawings in his sketchbook that Cas gave him for his birthday; all of them ideas and variations for his pet project. The hardest part is not showing Cas. Dean is always excited to show him all of his work, finished or not, because Cas always has comments and critiques that help Dean further his skill.

“Dude, that’s really cool.”

Dean looks up from his papers to see Ash standing close, he has a black eye and a band aid on his cheek.

“What happened to you?” Dean gawks at the man’s swollen, bruised face.

“Pretty sure Cas was right, not everyone thinks that my skill in the art of dick drawing is as cool as I think it is.”

“Shit, man. What did you do?”

“Let me put it this way… Falling asleep in the day room may not be the open invitation - I thought it was - for a budding artist to practice his skills and take sharpie to skin.”

“Ash, who the hell did you draw dicks on this time?”

Ash points across the room, “Trevor.”

“Fucking Trevor! Have you completely lost it? That guy's a freakin’ giant. Why the hell would you agitate that King-Kong motherfucker?”

“Ain’t no big thing. Just saw an opening and took it. Kinda like tagging a train. Figured he’d be a more sound sleeper, only got two and a half dicks before he woke up.” Ash chuckles and winces at the pain, “Guess I need to speed up my drawing.”

Dean just shakes his head, some people will never learn. “Or maybe stop drawing dicks everywhere, or on people.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Alright,” Dean throws his hands up in defeat, “Whatever floats your boat, man.”

Ash sits in the chair across from Dean and watches him work on his sketch for a few minutes. “You’re really good.” Ash breaks the silence.

“Thanks. Dating a world-renowned artist has its perks.” Ash opens his mouth to comment, but Dean cuts him off, glaring at Ash - remembering his comment from art class last week, “Besides his _dick_ that is. It's not all about sex, Ash.”

“You ain’t holding a grudge, are you? I apologized for dissin’ you guys, I was just goofing around.”

“Yeah, well, your idea of a joke is what’s got you all bruised and looking like you went face to fist with a bulldozer - which you kinda did. Man, I just don’t get why you go out of your way to piss people off.”

“Asks the guy who has broken more noses and fingers than anyone else here. Besides, I’m just keeping it exciting.”

“Idiot.” Dean stretches his arms above his head, popping his shoulder in the movement. He looks around and notices Cas across the room talking to Jimmy.

“Later loser.” He says to Ash while he closes his books and puts his pens away. Dean crosses the room to greet his boyfriend.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas smiles and puts an arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him close and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “You ready?”

“Just need to grab my shoes.” Cas chuckles and looks at Dean’s bare feet, something about it makes his heart flutter. Dean would rather be barefoot all the time if he could. He finds it endearing, even if it’s a hassle at times. Anytime they are getting ready to go somewhere, he almost always has to wait for Dean to find his shoes. “Come on Huckleberry, go put on some shoes.”

* * *

 After dinner, they go to a furniture store where they both act like kids - testing recliners, flopping on couches, and bouncing on beds. They laugh and chas from one section of the store to another, drawing disapproving eyes from customers and employees alike.

Dean falls in love with a big, brown, soft leather couch with nice deep cushions and thick padded armrests. He pulls Cas down to lay with him, “Oh man, this is way more comfortable than your couch… and we both fit!”

“Shut up, I love my couch.”

“Ah-hmm…” A man standing just behind the couch looks down at them, “May I help you?” He grimaces and glares down his nose. He had been watching them disapprovingly as they ran around the store.

“No thanks.” Cas replies, and Dean covers his shocked laugh with a hand over his mouth.

“If you decide that you would like to _actually_ make a _purchase_ , my name is Gordon.” With that, the man turns and walks away.

“Thanks so much, _Gordon_ , now we know who NOT to ask for.” Cas sticks out his tongue and pokes Dean in the ribs, “Get off me, let's go find a friendlier associate.”

They wander around the store scoping out the employees, watching how they interact with the customers, how they talk, the faces they make when they think no one is looking. Basically, Dean and Cas stalk the staff, whispering and snickering like a couple of high school girls. They spot a young woman being berated by a man, while his wife holds a screaming infant, looking quite ready to crawl in a hole. The associate stands there silent while the may yells at her for some nonsense about an online order gone wrong. Once he stops barking, she looks over the paperwork and points out the areas where the mistakes were made and calmly asks the family to wait while she speaks to the manager. Moments later she comes back with a bundle of new papers and a solution to the situation, letting them know that the items in question will be delivered, free of charge. The man flaps his mouth, obviously floundering for something else to complain about, but just takes the papers and glares at the woman then snaps at his wife to go get in the car.

“What a dick.” Dean whispers to Cas.

“Hello.” Cas walks up and greets the young woman.

“Good evening.” She smiles a beautifully radiant smile.

“Once you’ve had a moment to settle yourself after the ravings of that lunatic, we were hoping you would be available to assist us. We are looking to furnish an entire apartment.”

“Thank you,” she sighs and releases a bit of her fake cheerfulness. “My name is Jessica. If you don’t mind, I would like to run to the back for just a few minutes, then I will be happy to help you any way I can.”

“Sounds good, Jessica, we’ll be over by the dining tables.”

Dean is checking out the build under a heavy wooden dining table when Jessica returns. Cas kicks his foot and Dean crawls out from under the table, grinning and blushing slightly. Introductions are made and the trio discuss their furniture needs and the size of the various rooms in the apartment. Cas plans to completely re-furnish and update the apartment. He hasn’t actually done anything to it since he bought the place - other than adding the basic furniture. The plan is to donate all the existing furniture to a local women’s shelter.

Jessica quickly realizes that cost is the least of the men’s worries, so she guides them to the better quality items.

Dean picks out a couple of chairs to go with the couch they both like so well. They decide on end tables, lamps, and a colorful rug for the living room. Dean sees a heavy Cyprus top table with six dining chairs and falls in love. Then, they move to the mattress area, trying several and earning more disapproving looks from other employees.

“I think I’m too tired to decide… they all feel like the perfect place to fall asleep right now.” Dean groans laying sideways across a bed with his feet still on the floor.

“It’s okay. We can order the delivery for the things you have chosen and do some more shopping when you’re fresh.” Cas pinches Dean’s thigh, urging him up get up. Dean takes Cas’s proffered hand and pulls himself to his feet.

“Jessica, thank you for your assistance. We would like to work with you again to complete the purchases, if that’s alright.” Cas rubs his hand up and down Dean’s back as he speaks, a habit he didn’t realize he’d developed.

“Definitely, Mr. Novak. I’ll make some advanced choices, according to the style you and Mr. Winchester prefer and have some items ready for viewing when you return.”

Dean smirks and winks at her. “Be sure to tell Gordon to get bent. Oh, and remind him of the commission he lost due to his attitude.”

She covers her giggle with her hand and whispers, “He’s not much of a people person, I can’t figure out why he’s in retail.”

Payment and delivery arrangements are made and Jessica bids them farewell.

As they walk out of the store, Dean spots a display of novelty pillows. He bursts out laughing, holding up two pillows, “Cas! Wait. We gotta get these!”

**WE HAD SEX HERE   -   AND HERE**

****

 

Dean begins to load the pillows in Cas’s arms, “We’re getting all these fuckers!” Cas laughs and they take the armloads of pillows to the register. Jessica sees them and meets them at the checkout counter.

“Oh my God! You guys are hilarious!”

* * *

 Later that week, the movers arrive at Cas’s to load up all the furniture currently in the apartment. Everything is still new and barely used, even the appliances - the stove/oven has never been used. Cas spent a few nights in the apartment when he was working on refurbishing the couch for the Pool House and didn’t want to mess with going up to the big house, but no one has ever lived in the apartment.

Earlier in the month, when trying to decide what to do with all the furniture he was going to get rid of, Castiel had taken a tour of the Women’s Shelter facilities and it broke his heart how many women and children are without a save place to live. He immediately spoke with Gabriel and his accountant to add the place to his charity allowance.

The apartment now looks stark in its emptiness. White walls and ugly beige berber carpet. “This won’t do.” Cas looks at the cleaning crew he hired. “This place is boring, don’t you think?”

The guy looks around and replies, “Looks like an empty apartment.”

Cas huffs and walks around the bare rooms with his hands on his hips, “No, this won’t do.”

The folowing weekend finds Cas and Dean at a home improvement store. Dean decides he wants hardwood throughout.

“That carpet in there now sucks.”  He looks at his elbow, “I got carpet burn when you tackled me last night.”

“At least you don’t have a knot on your head from slamming into the door frame.” Cas rebuts, grumpily.

The salesman gives them a funny look.

“Empty apartment. It screamed ‘wrestling match’ with all that open space.” Dean answers the unspoken question. The man chuckles and agrees with the idea.

The next they look at tile for the bathroom and kitchen, and at fixtures, backsplashes, and appliances. Dean chooses a horizontal rock tile for the bathroom backsplash and black quartz countertop, with an amazing glass vessel sink, engraved with horses. For the kitchen he likes the look of darker wood cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless appliances.

Cas makes the arrangements for a construction crew to do all the renovations.

After lunch, they check out paint colors., Dean agrees that the white walls have to go. The afternoon is spent teasing, arguing, and finally deciding on paint colors to test in the kitchen, dining area, and living room. They also pick out new lighting for the kitchen and bathroom, and settle on a ceiling fan fixture for the living room.

     

 

* * *

 Curled up on the couch in the studio, watching The Great British Baking Show on Netflix, Cas orders dinner from Harvelle’s.

“Now I know why you like this show so much,” Dean is laying with his head in Cas’s lap. He turns to look up at him and teasingly walks his fingers across Cas’s belly.

Cas looks down at Dean’s mischievous grin and asks, “Oh yeah? Why then?”

“Paul Hollywood’s spiky hair and bowed legs - you think he’s yummy!”

“Oh yeah?” Cas gooses Dean in the ribs. “What about you? You won’t shut up about his ‘pretty blue eyes and intense glare’.” He tickles Dean again.

Dean cackles and hollers, “AAAAA!! No! You’re in love with Mary Berry!”

“Mary Berry, huh!?” Cas wrestles him to the floor and sits on his hips while he continues to tickle him.

Dean’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe.  He manages to grab Cas’s hands and wraps their arms around Cas’s waist. They sit up with Cas still in his lap, his laughter dying as he drowns in the blue depths of Cas’s eyes.

“No Mary Berry for me… You’re the one I love.” He leans down, kissing Dean passionately. Pulling away, Cas smirks, “But I wouldn’t kick Hollywood out if he wanted to visit our hot tub!”

Dean gasps and sticks his lip out in a big pout. Cas catches that lip between his teeth and gently tugs until his teeth release and Dean’s lip bounces back in place. Cas licks across the reddened surface, moving his hips just enough to press their cocks together and get Dean’s attention. “Baby, you know your beautiful bowed legs are the only ones I want wrapped around me.”

Just then, Cas’s phone pings and Dean grumbles but releases his hand, so he can check the message.

“Dinner’s here!” Cas grins and smacks another kiss on Dean’s lips.

“What great timing.” Dean groans and flops back onto the floor.

“Shut it, grumpy pants. You know you want to sink your teeth into that burger.” Cas pinches Dean’s belly and gets up off him. “Be right back.”

Dean watches him walk to the door to go meet the driver. “That ain't all I wanna sink my teeth into.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows at Cas, who barks out a laugh and runs up to the driveway to fetch their food.

Cas returns a few minutes later with wonderful smelling burgers. They set up at the coffee table, both sitting on the floor so they can continue watching TV while they eat.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asks around a mouthful of fries.

“Hmm?” Cas answers around the lip of his beer bottle.

Dean swallows and wipes the ketchup from the corner of his mouth, “Will you go with me?”

“Where we going, Babe?” Cas sits his beer on the table and focuses his attention on Dean, his tone indicating that he’s been sitting there thinking about something important. Too often, Dean will start a conversation mid-thought, seemingly forgetting that Cas isn’t aware of what’s happening inside that noggin of his.

“When I go to court. Will you go with me?” Dean asks, full of sincerity and trepidation as if Cas might say no.

“Of course, Dean. It never crossed my mind otherwise.” Cas cradles Dean’s face in his hand. “Did you honestly think that I would let you face that alone?”

Dean turns to kiss Cas’s palm and leans into the touch. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with it. I mean, Eleanor and Dr. Fritz will be there, plus the lawyer from the Center.”

“Oh, hey! I didn’t tell you. I’ve arranged for one of the lawyers from the firm that handles all my legal stuff to represent you. He’s much tougher and has reviewed your case and history. He has also interviewed the Center staff, including those who no longer work there. He even came out to the house to interview Gabe and me and tour the entire property.”

“Holy crap, Cas. That’s… What about the other lawyer?”

“My team is working with him. Improving the strength of your case. That guy will still represent the Center, but _your_ lawyer will be in your corner.”

“Mm-my lawyer. That’s...that’s…. shit… wow. Sometimes I forget just how rich you are, Castiel Novak!”

“Well, Baby, I’m just glad I’m able to put some of that money to good use. You know I’d do anything for you.”

Dean leans across the coffee table and kisses Cas. “I may not have any money, but I’d give my life to make sure you’re happy.”

Cas steps over the low table and sits on Dean’s lap, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. “ _You, Dean_ . You _are_ my happiness - and my heartache, and hope, and fear.... and I never want to be without you. I would give up everything I own, all the real estate, the business, the money - none of it means anything to me. But I don’t think I could go on if I lost you.”

He looks into Dean’s forest green eyes, drowning in the depth of emotion and expression as those eyes shine back at him. Dean’s hands grasp Cas’s waist and Cas’s hands slide up into Dean’s hair. Cas lets out a hot, shaky breath against Dean’s neck.

“I _need_ you, Dean. In every since of the word.” Cas licks Dean’s neck, and whispers, “I _want_ you … every part of you.” Dean shivers when Cas’s breath puffs against his ear. “Your beautiful mind…” Cas mouths along Dean’s neck to his collarbone. “Your amazing body.” Dean’s hands slide to Cas’s ass, pulling him tighter against his hips, he tilts his head back to give Cas more access. Cas rocks his hips, letting Dean feel just how much he needs him. “Dean,” he whispers and moans as he sucks a bruise at the junction where Dean’s neck and shoulder meet.

“Oh, God… Cas…” Dean growls, gripping Cas and trying to rut up to meet him and get more friction. “Need… you…” He cuts off with a sloppy, noisy, wet, tongue filled kiss. One hand fighting between them to get Cas’s jeans unbuttoned while still squeezing his ass cheek with the other, wanting, needing everything all at once.

“Ah - fuck, baby.. yeah, come on, comeoncomeoncomeon… bed - room.” Cas pants and scrambles to get off Dean, trying to help pull him up while still kissing… trying to force himself to stand and walk to the other room.

Cas pulls off his t-shirt and fingers the hem of Dean’s, pushing it up when they both collide with the doorframe on the way into the bedroom. Cas’s hands go to Dean’s jeans while Dean jerks his shirt over his head. Dean unzips Cas’s jeans just as he feels the bed against his legs so he falls, naked, onto the bed, Cas crawling over him, his cock hard and dripping. Dean wraps his hand around Cas and slides his fist up and down his length. Cas closes his eyes and sighs, dipping down to kiss Dean’s soft, swollen lips.

Dean continues to stroke, just barely enough to keep on edge, aching for more - while Cas pops open the lube and coats his fingers. He presses two fingers against that tight little hole, circling and teasing before slipping his middle finger in. Dean’s gasp and porn-perfect moan are swallowed up by Cas as he continues kissing him, tongues pressing and exploring inside each other as Cas pumps his finger into Dean. When Cas adds a second finger, twisting and crooking them just right, Dean sucks Cas’s tongue and tightens his fist around his cock.

Writhing and groaning, Dean pushes against Cas’s fingers, his own knuckles dragging along his cock as he strokes Cas. It’s messy, and loud, and dirty, and perfect.

Cas grunts, scissoring Dean open, fucking into Dean’s hand, licking and teething along his neck - it’s all he can do to keep from screaming… Every touch makes his skin feel like a combination of fire and ice, it hurts so good. He doesn’t want it to end. He wants to plunge inside Dean and take him to that high - he wants to go with Dean to that headspace.

Dean is panting and groaning and cussing and begging… He arches his back, squirming and gripping the headboard with his free hand. Dean can’t decide if he wants to squeeze his legs around Cas or let them drop wide open. He falters in his strokes when Cas twists three fingers in and out, scissoring, then teasing his prostate.

Cas reaches between them and unhooks Dean’s fingers from his dick, coating it with his lube slick hand. He adjusts his angle, pressing the tip against Dean’s wet hole.

Dean grips the back of Cas’s neck and pulls him down, licking into his mouth as Cas pushes the tip of his cock past the ring of muscle. Cas slowly inches his way deeper, eating up all the beautiful, sexy sounds Dean makes. Cas finally bottoms out and raises up on his shaky arms, smiling down. Dean’s mouth is open as he pants, his eyes are blown dark and heavily lidded,  hands tracing up and down Cas’s sides.

“This has to be my favorite look on you.” Cas licks his lips, still breathing hard and having a difficult time talking. “so needy, and high on sex...so beautiful.”

Dean scrapes his short nails up Cas’s sides. “You gonna recite poetry or fuck me?” Dean pinches one of Cas’s nipples, drawing a hiss from him. Cas slowly pulls out and achingly slowly pushes back in, again and again and again, so slow that his whole body quivers with the strain. It’s torture for them both, Dean pushes his hips up to meet him.

“Please, please, please… C- C- C- Caassss…” Dean digs his fingers into Cas’s ribs. Cas lowers onto one elbow, reaching down to add more lube. It’s cold against his overheated, sensitive cock. He grips Dean’s thigh and pushes it up towards his chest. He slides his freshly lubed cock in, then begins to speed up, building a rhythm and slamming into Dean.

Dean cries out in satisfaction, pushing his foot against the bed, raising his hips to meet Cas with every hard thrust. Dean’s hands can’t decide where to settle and he scratches along Cas’s back and sides and ass, his dick is bobbing between them, dripping on his belly.

Cas growls, pressing his body fully against Dean. He pushes against the bed with one hand and Dean understands enough to push with his leg - flipping them over so Cas is on bottom. Dean raises up, to get his legs under him. He realigns, sinking down on Cas’s hot, hard cock and Cas’s hands jump to Dean’s hips.

“Oh - fuck - yeah - Dean - so - aaaahh...“ Cas slurs as Dean rides him. Dean throws his head back and balances his hands on Cas’s thighs. Crying out every time he goes down on Cas. He finds that perfect spot and when Cas hits his prostate, Dean curls in on himself, his hands on Cas’s hip bones, grunting and sweating - unable to form words - he quick fucks Cas’s dick against his sensitive bundle of nerves. Dean’s cock twitches with every hit, moving just enough to continue the assault, no longer sliding along the length.

Cas’s whole body shakes as he watches Dean milk his prostate with Cas’s cock. He takes shallow quick gulps of air, trying to breathe through the intense feeling. His fingers dig into Dean’s hips. He feels light-headed and his vision blurs, squinting to focus on the sight of Dean above him.

Dean’s eyes squeeze shut, and he opens his mouth in a silent scream. Cum spurts out in hot streaks across Cas’s chest as Dean comescompletely untouched.

“Ah - Fuck!” Cas pulls Dean’s ass flush against his hips, pushing his dick as deep as possible, cumming hard. The world spins, and he gasps for air, blinking hard against the dark edges of his vision.

Dean gasps for breath, shaking as he tries not to fall on Cas. Cas moves his hands up to Dean’s shoulders and guides him down against his sweaty, sticky chest, both men panting, hearts beating hard and fast. Dean signs and relaxes against Cas.

They stay that way as they try to regain a normal heart rate.

Cas blinks his eyes open, unsure if he fell asleep or not. Dean is breathing deep, hot puffs against his neck and he thinks they both passed clean out for a few minutes. He traces his fingers up Dean’s spine, causing goosebumps and smiling as Dean shivers at the touch.

“Hey Princess,” Cas whispers as he kisses Dean’s shoulder. Dean moves slightly but doesn’t reply. “Hey, we need to clean up.” Cas shakes him, “Come on, sleepyhead.”

Dean blindly searches for the blanket, and mumbles incoherently.

Cas pushes Dean off him, onto his back, groaning when Dean curls into the top sheet, “Awe, man, now you got the sheets all gross.” He swats Dean’s bare ass, which is poking out from under the sheet.

“Ow.” Dean grumbles, “Whatsat for?”

“Get up so we can change the sheets. I’m gonna jump in the shower. You coming?”

Cas has washed off all the sweat and cum and is shampooing his hair when Dean finally joins him. “Hey Beautiful,” Cas wipes the suds away from his eyes and kisses Dean on the forehead. “Here.” He hands Dean the body wash and tilts his head back to rinse the shampoo.  Dean is still standing there holding the bottle of soap and yawning when Cas opens his eyes.

“Geez, you’re either all or nothin’. Here, let me help you.” Cas takes the bottle and gets Dean all soaped up, then moves him under the spray to rinse. Dean keeps his eyes closed the whole time as Cas cleans him from head to toes. A final rinse for them both and Cas shuts off the water, manhandling Dean out of the shower and drying him off.

“Will you at least strip the… oh!” Cas sees that Dean already put clean sheets on the bed. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

Dean hums and pulls Cas back to bed. Wrapping himself around Cas, arms and legs a tangle, his head on Cas’s pillow. “Love you, Angel.” He mumbles sleepily.

Cas’s heart skips a beat, _‘Angel’_... so he hadn’t dreamed that. Dean has called him that before, but that was in the throes of sex. He’s never used a nickname for Cas… Cas likes the sound of it and wonders if Dean will ever call him that when he’s awake and coherent.

“Love you, too, Princess.” Cas snuggles as close as physically possible.

* * *

 Cas’s phone pings and he ignores it, he’s in the middle of helping Garth with a watercolor technique.

Aimee spills her dirty water and Dean grabs up his paper just in time to save it from being ruined. (ping) _‘Fuck_.’ Cas grumbles under his breath and helps clean up the mess. Instead of helping Dean moves his things to the floor in the corner - there are no empty tables - because, as he declares, “I ain’t sittin’ with none of you clumsy fuckers no more.”

Cas glares at Dean from under the table as he dries the floor, _‘Asshole, needs a reminder lesson in manners_.’ (ping)

“What?” Dean barks, giving Cas the stink eye. “I didn’t make the mess, she did. I’m just tryin’ to _behave_ and finish the assignment.”

Cas closes his eyes and shakes his head in defeat. He tosses the wet paper towels in the trash and moves to assist Ed. (ping)

Class time is coming to an end and most of them were able to, at least, partially complete a watercolor painting. It’s a good first attempt. Cas has them clean up and prepare to leave. (ping)

“Alright, everyone. Great class. (ping) Next week we’ll do some more watercolor painting. I know you won’t be able to practice during the week, but please work on your shading and highlight techniques with the charcoal pencils. Thanks.” (ping) Cas stands at the door, per usual, as the patients leave class, bidding them farewell and commenting on their work. His phone has been blowing up, but he has a policy not to answer his phone during class because he prefers to focus on his students. Normally he remembers to silence the thing, but it's not typical for him to receive texts or calls like this on a Tuesday morning. Besides, most of his calls are from or about Dean these days and Dean is right here with him.  

Once everyone, besides Dean, has left, Cas pulls his phone from his pocket just as he receives another message.

“Good lord,” He complains, “Who the hell needs to reach me so urgently?”

Dean leans against the table beside Cas, “Hey,” he runs one finger down Cas’s forearm, “I’m sorry for acting like a shit earlier, I should have helped you and Aimee clean up the water.”

_‘Dammit, how can I stay mad at that pouty face?_ ’ Cas rolls his eyes, “Aw, Babe,” (ping) Cas huffs and opens the message app.

Charlie> OMG I have NEWS

Charlie> CASTIEL … NEWS

Charlie> Are you ignoring me?

Charlie> Oh sorry, its Tuesday - art class time… but DUDE!

Charlie> God how long is this class?  This is BIG NEWS…

Charlie> I really don’t want to tell you this over text. Please call ASAP

Charlie> ASAP= As Soon As Possible not A Sluggish Attitude Please

Charlie> 911 - IMPORTANT!

“Guess I should Call her?” Cas smirks and Dean barks out a laugh.

“Ya think?”

They both take a seat at the table they were leaning on and Cas pulls Dean’s chair close, laying one hand on his thigh as he dials Charlie, setting the call on speaker.

“For fucks sake Castiel!” She bellows in lieu of a normal ‘Hello.’

“Jesus, Charlie. What has you so worked up? You know that class lasts an hour and…”

“CROWLEY IS IN CUSTODY!”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted. There were issues with Google Doc that caused me and my editor massive problems over the weekend. 
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this chapter - one more and it is the close to this little piece of history for the boys.  
> I do have notes for timestamps, I love these boys (this story is my baby) too much to leave them in the dust.  
> \- before I revisit this verse, I do want to set out on some other journeys in writing short fics. :)  
> The next chapter will be out in one week. <3


	45. To Infinity and Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's final court hearing date has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special note:  
> Thank you for putting up with me for almost a year! This has been an epic journey and I feel that I have made live long friends through this process. I could not have completed this story without you. I love you gals! (Jenni J., Sarah F.) A very special thanks to JenSpenner who got me through some 'hard' times. *wink*  
> This was the very first writing I've ever shared with anyone - and it turns out that I'm sharing it with EVERYONE! Go big or go home, right?  
> I do plan to continue writing, I had no idea I liked it so much :)  
> Thank you again for sticking with me and my boys through this little time in this little universe.  
> CritterDee <3

Dean sits in the large courtroom, the bailiff glaring at him as he tugs nervously at his tie that feels like it’s choking him. Dr. Fritz and his lawyer sit on either side of him. Cas and Eleanor are sitting in the gallery, a few rows back, behind a low barrier.  Dean glances around the space, noticing the unremarkable white-ish walls and the gallery area behind them where family members, caseworkers and whoever else wants to watch court proceedings sit. This isn’t Dean’s first rodeo, he’s been shuffled through his fair share of courtrooms and they all look and feel just about the same. The biggest difference today is that he wasn’t arrested or being reviewed for some CPS infraction. Today will be the beginning - or end - of the new life that he wants so badly to have with Cas.

He meets Cas’s eyes and feels a pang of despair - what if…

Cas smiles at him. The little lines at the corners of his eyes wrinkle and he mouths, “I love you.” Dean smiles and nods, not wanting Cas to know how truly worried he is. Then he turns back around when the bailiff announces the arrival of the judge.

The proceedings begin and his lawyer goes through Dean’s case files and his history at the Center. The man gives details about Dean’s rehabilitation, relationships, and living arrangements in the apartment. The judge listens quietly, neither interrupting nor asking questions.

Dean isn’t sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

Once the lawyer has given his full testimony, the judge finally speaks up.

“Thank you for recounting so many details. I have been made aware of Mr. Winchester’s status via reports sent from the Lady Bird Center for Mental Health.  I have reviewed the case of Mr. Winchester and have come to a conclusion.”

Dean sits on his hands and holds his breath, eyes unblinking and focused on the gruff looking man with a bulbus, heavily veined nose sitting in judgement of his life and future.

“Due to the violent nature of Mr. Winchester’s mental illness and the fact that he has harmed himself and has had physical outbursts toward others as recently as last month, I do not recommend his release into an unsupervised situation. Therefore, Mr. Winchester is hereby sentenced to the Texas state mental facility for a period of eighteen months, pending review and case hearing in this court.”

Dean jumps up and screams at the judge, fighting against his lawyer to get to the man who just ruined his life.

“Dean! Dean!” Cas comes running out of the bathroom when he hears Dean call out. “Dean! Wake up!” Cas grits his teeth and grabs Dean by the shoulders, shaking him, and ducking his face back just in case Dean takes a swing.

Dean pushes sway, falling off the bed, panting and crying. He’s wet with sweat and his throat hurts.

“Dean, Baby - you were having a nightmare. Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me, focus on me Dean. You’re at the pool house with me. Today is Sunday, May 6th. You’re safe, Baby. I’m here. There ya go, deep breaths. Just focus on me.”

Dean stares up at Cas, who is leaning over the edge of the bed, one hand on his thigh and the other gripping the headboard for support. Dean’s breathing is beginning to even out. He glances around the room and down at the hardwood floor, suddenly realizing that he’d fallen off the bed, before nodding his acknowledgement. Then he reaches his hand toward his best friend, lover, and anchor.

Cas looks at Dean’s outstretched hand, his invitation and affirmation to touch and be touched. He bites his lower lip, chin quivering with emotion. Tightly gripping Dean’s hand, he helps him off the floor and back onto the bed. He hesitates briefly before pulling Dean into a hug - Dean melting into his chest.

“You’re dripping wet with sweat, Babe. How about we get you into the shower, then we can go up to the kitchen and rustle up some breakfast?”

Dean squeezes him tightly, letting out a heavy sigh. He nods as he pulls away.  “Yeah, sounds good.” His voice is scratchy and still shaky.

“Come on. You’ll feel better after a nice hot shower.”

Cas washes Dean’s hair and then rubs his shoulders while Dean cries under the shower spray.

Dean is non-committal when Cas offers choices of cold cereal, so Cas chooses Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch - a favorite midnight snack for them both and this morning they are in need of easy comfort food. Dean refuses the offer of coffee but drinks down half a carton of orange juice. He’s still quite shaken from his unpleasant dream. Luckily, he isn’t shying away from touch and Cas is able to gently console him by rubbing his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand as they eat their breakfast.

Gabe saunters in the kitchen and rifles through the cabinets for food, settling on Frosted Flakes.

“Y’all are up early.” Gabe greets them as he takes a seat at the table.

“Dean had…” Cas starts.

“I had a nightmare. Freaked Cas out.” Dean states, cutting Cas off.

Gabe and Cas are both shocked, Dean rarely admits to or speaks about his nightmares so openly.

“Cas, I’m sorry I scared you. It… It felt so real.”

“No, Babe, no, it’s okay. I’m glad I was there for you.” Cas grips Dean’s hand in both of his and kisses his knuckles.

Dean cups Cas’s face in his free hand and looks into his eyes. “The judge deemed me unfit and sentenced me to the Texas State hospital. Cas.. I can’t… I won’t… I wouldn’t survive that.”

“Oh, Dean.” Cas embraces him. “Baby, that’s never going to happen. Sweetheart, you’ve seen the communications from the lawyer and the reports from Dr. Fritz.”

Dean stutters, “In… In.. In my dre-dre… nightmare, the judge doesn’t care. He shuts them down… and… and…” Dean’s shaking and crying again, clinging to Cas.

Gabe meets Cas’s eyes. He’s unable to find words of encouragement, blinking hard, he looks away. Dean may be a pain in the ass at times but he has grown into an amazing man since Gabe first met him all those months ago. Gabe has watched his best friend become the man he always knew he could be - and Dean has been the catalyst to fuel those flames under Cas.

The dreaded court date is a little more than two weeks away and everyone has been a bit on edge. No matter what the ‘ _experts’_ say, Dean is bone-deep afraid of being sent to the state mental hospital and Cas is angry at those who instilled so much fear in Dean. So Gabe tries to stay in the background and support them quietly, lending an ear or shoulder when needed.

Gabe stands up from the table, giving Cas a pat on the shoulder and a nod - hoping to convey his heartfelt condolences and availability, along with his understanding that they need privacy. He washes all the breakfast dishes and leaves the two men to work out the current issue.

Cas holds Dean until he calms and looks up - all puffy and red faced.

“Where’d Gabe go?” Dean sniffs, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Cas shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You ready to head back?”

Dean shakes his head. “Can we just watch TV for a while?”

Cas kisses his hot forehead. “Of course.”

Dean snuggles so close to Cas on the couch that he’s almost in his lap - Cas has zero complaints. He flips through their watch list and grins up at Cas when he pushes play.

“Princess Bride, again?” Cas ruffles Dean’s hair and chuckles. “As you wish.”

Dean settles completely as the movie plays. Cas keeps checking to see if he has fallen asleep, but Dean is wide-eyed and smiling at the screen, quietly chuckling now and then, and mouthing his favorite lines along with the characters.

When the Grandfather stops before the very last scene, and the Grandson wants him to finish, Dean looks up at Cas and says - with the boy - “I don’t mind the kissing so much.”

Cas replies - along with the Grandfather. “As you wish.” And leans down pressing a kiss to Dean’s waiting lips. It’s not heated or desperate, it is simply loving.

“Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” As the Grandfather continues to speak in the movie, Dean and Cas kiss, in their own little world.

“Cas, I really don’t think I could survive going to State,” Dean whispers.

“I’m not going to ever let that happen.”

* * *

 

In addition to his counseling sessions, Dean now has weekly meetings with his lawyer. Cas always sits in at those meetings. Mr. Roche is one of the senior partners at the firm that handles all of Cas’s legal interests.

Dean wasn’t sure about the guy when he first met him, his accent and haughty, expensive appearance made him seem like a man who looks down at the likes of Dean. By the end of their first meeting, however, Dean saw the man for who he is under all the high-class lawyer facade. Kind, caring, funny as hell, and maybe the smartest person Dean has ever met.

Dean told Sebastian - because of course this high-cost, top-of-his-class lawyer is cool enough to want Dean to call him by his first name - about his nightmares and fears of being sent to State.

“Dean. Please, believe me when I tell you that there is no chance of that happening at this hearing. You are not on trial. The proceedings are a mere formality of the fulfillment of your time served and the closure of the case which was the determinant of the sentencing. You have surpassed expectations, young man.” The lawyer claps Dean on the arm. “Now, let’s review the latest communication from the judge.

* * *

 

During the week leading up to his court date, Dean is more clingy than ever,So Cas spends every afternoon at the Center. They have dinner together and Cas stays with him until he falls asleep. Every morning, before breakfast, Dean stands in front of Eleanor’s door waiting for her to arrive, bouncing on his toes as she unlocks her office and he practically runs to the phone to call Cas.

“Hey Cas, good morning. I love you. Thank you for staying … no, no bad dreams. … Yeah,... “

The conversations are usually brief but enough to start him off on the right foot and keep his anxiety nearly non-existent.

Eleanor shoos him off to breakfast, reminding him of the day’s activities and her expectations of him. This routine has been very helpful for Dean.

* * *

 

Art class is canceled on May 29th due to Dean’s hearing. Cas has breakfast with him and they meet Eleanor and Dr. Fritz after they eat. They all ride together in Eleanor’s car,meeting up with his lawyer at the courthouse.

Dean is so nervous, he is sitting with his back perfectly straight, afraid to wrinkle the new suit that Cas bought him. It is not nearly as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. He is wearing a pale blue dress shirt pressed and wrinkle free, dark grey slacks creased just right, charcoal sport-coat unbuttoned, and his navy blue tie is in a neat windsor knot - because Cas insisted it was the best knot for the occasion. He even likes his new black dress shoes - so much that he now feels bad about cussing at Cas in the shoe store.  

On his right is his lawyer, Sebastian, and to his left is Dr. Fritz. Sitting in the small gallery are Eleanor, Cas, Charlie, Gabe, and the lawyer representing the Center. Dean scans the room. This courtroom is not the same one he went through eighteen months ago, that was the criminal court which is in a different section of the vast building. This is a smaller room with dark paneling on the walls and well worn hardwood floors. Everything about this room feels old-Texas, like the large wooden furniture and the raised judges bench with the bailiff seat to the left and the witness stand to the right. He and his advisors are seated at a six-foot table on the witness side of the room and there is another matching table across from them to their left, which his empty of occupants. Opposite the judges bench is a small gallery of two rows of ten chairs each. There is a door, that Dean and his entourage came through next to the table on the bailiff side, between the table and the gallery. Finally,behind the bailiff’s seat, there’s the door that leads to the judge’s chambers.

Everyone stands as the bailiff announces the entrance of the judge.

“Good morning. Is everyone necessary to this proceeding in attendance?” The judge questions. When the bailiff acknowledges in the affirmative, the judge continues, “Will Council please approach the podium?”

“Good morning, your honor. Sebastian Roche, official representative of Mr. Dean Winchester.”

“Will you please make necessary introductions, sir?” The judge asks in a thick Texan accent that Dean thinks sounds like something out of an old western movie.

Dean stares at the man. He notices his intense brown eyes, salt and pepper hair so neatly styled, the tan of an active healthy person, and his strong jawline. If he met this man outside the courtroom he would have no fear of him, he looks pleasant and kind. But Dean is still nervous because looks can be deceiving.

“Gladly, sir. Mr. Garcia is representing the Lady Bird Center for Mental Health. Ms, Eleanor Visyak is Dean’s counselor and Dr. Jessica Fritz is the lead psychiatrist at the Center and acts as Dean’s psychiatrist.  We also have in attendance Mr Gabriel Milton, Dean’s new boss; Ms. Charlie Bradbury, friend and now coworker; and Mr. Castiel Novak, Dean’s life partner.”

The judge straightens a stack of papers, tapping them on end against his desk, “Well, that does sound better than “boyfriend” for an adult relationship.” He smiles up at the room, “Why adults insist on using terms like ‘boy-” or “girl - friend” is beyond me. It sounds so juvenile.” He nods at Dean. “Thank you for the introductions, Mr. Roche.”

The lawyer sits back down next to Dean.

“Now, Mr. Winchester.” The judge addresses Dean in a commanding voice.

Dean nervously stands, wringing his hands together.

“Please, keep your seat for this portion, young man. This is not a criminal hearing. We are here to determine the finalization of your court appointed time served as inpatient at the institution - The Lady Bird Center for Mental Health.”

Dean takes his seat and reaches over to take Eleanor’s hand as comfort and grounding for his nerves.

“Young man, I have kept a careful eye on your case, following your treatment and responses. You have had indeed had a difficult time. Your psychiatrist and lawyer have brought to my attention not only the eighteen month span of your time at the Lady Bird Center, but they have shared with me your life history, and son, I have to commend you - it is a miracle that you survived. You are an amazingly strong willed person. You are a survivor.”

‘ _Holy crap, this judge has been watching me… Wait, me a survivor, maybe, I mean, that’s all I’ve ever done - survive. Nobody ever really took any time for me before Cas._ ’ Dean blinks hard and refocuses on the judge.

“Nonetheless, I want you to look at each of the individuals in this room today who have had a part in your care the Lady Bird Center and never forget the outstanding work that they have done. These people, who gave of themselves to assist in your mental health as well as your physical health treatment have saved your life. When you were arrested eighteen months ago, you were on a fast track to death in a gutter or in some back alley.”

‘ _Been fuckin close to that…_ ’ Dean looks at the people in the room who came to support him here and who have been there over the past year-and-a-half. He thinks about Jimmy and the other orderlies and the nurses who have helped him any time he has been injured. ‘ _Damn… He’s right._ ’

“Through their support and your willingness to fight for your own wellbeing, you now have a life to look forward to with friends and loved ones. **Do not squander this gift**. If I hear even a whisper that you have slipped back into a life of drugs and prostitution, I will not hesitate to sentence you as harshly as the law allows.”

Dean stares, eyes wide and mouth agape. He swallows, audibly gulping and clears his throat. “Yessir. I, I never want to be that person again. I… well, now, I have a reason to want to live. I know I’m not all healed, or whatever, but with the help of Dr. Fritz and Eleanor... ‘cuz, yeah, I’m gonna keep up treatment even if I don’t have to live at the Center, um, yeah, that… that’s gonna keep helpin’.  Oh - and Cas, um Castiel. He’s like the best person ever. And, he even needs me. I can’t give up because Cas needs me in his life as much as I need him in mine. So, um… yeah… that’s it.”

“Thank you for sharing your thoughts and assurance that you have chosen a better life for yourself. I’m well aware that mental illness is not a condition where you are treated and given a shot or _magic_ pill to make it all better. You face a lifetime of unknowns, with a disadvantage that individuals who do not suffer from such a condition can never fully understand. Your condition is not an excuse for misconduct. But, understanding that it is an underlying cause of your instinctual responses gives you the advantage to learn alternate courses of action. Your desire to continue learning gives me hope. Thank you, Mr. Winchester. I’m pulling for you. You are a remarkable man, but I hope that we never cross paths in this courtroom again.

“I call this case and this hearing to a close. You are dismissed.” The judge raps his gavel and gathers his papers, leaving out the door behind the bailiff.

Dean stands when told, as the judge exits, then collapses in his chair. His lawyer and Dr. Fritz are both patting him on the shoulders and talking to him. Seconds later, Cas pulls him up and wraps his arms around him.

* * *

 

The entire group goes to Harvelle’s for a late celebratory lunch.

Gabe, Charlie, Dean, Cas, Sebastian, Eleanor, Dr. Fritz, and even Mr. Garcia. Ellen joins them for a round, congratulating Dean on the outcome of the hearing, reminding him that she always had faith in him and that he is always a welcome member of her hodge-podge-family.

They are all laughing and talking and generally having a good time when Dean nudges Cas and whispers for him to follow him to the men’s room. Once they are there, they impatiently wait for another guy to finish and leave. When they are finally alone, Dean grabs Cas and pulls him into a tight hug, pressing his foot against the door to maintain their privacy, since there is no lock on the main door.

“Thank you! Thank you for everything.” He kisses Cas. Someone pushes against the door and Dean pushes back with his foot. The guy curses and appears to leave. “We haven’t had any time alone all day and I just needed to have you all to myself for a minute and remind you how much I love you.”  Dean presses his face into the crook of Cas’s neck and they embrace for a few more minutes before stepping apart, both chuckling when they each decide to take care of their bladders while in there.

“Well, I’m glad you two got whatever that was out of your systems.” Charlie punches Dean in the arm when they return to the table.

“Shaddup.” Dean grins, too happy to be embarrassed or angry at her teasing.

“Alright. Since today is the day for good news. I want to add just a little more to the pile. I know- I know - Can things get any better than having our Dean a truly free man?” Charlie exclaims. Everyone at the table cheers and hoots for Dean.

“The answer is a most definite YES. Dean, hun, while you were in court this morning there was another hearing happening in - all all places New York City! Shush! I know you crazy Texan’s don’t care to hear about NYC. But this particular case is one that is very important to all of us. I have received word - through your office Mr. Roche - that our magnificent team of lawyers has done it again. We’ve won yet another case in the ring of monsters that worked under that horrible demonic man Alastair Rolston. This case happens to be one that we - as a team - have put forth a lot of time and effort. So, to make a long story short…”

“Too late!” Gabe and Cas holler at the same time. Dean gives Cas a little shove and laughs at his silliness. Charlie gives them both an evil glare and flips them off.

“As I was saying. This happens to be the case of one Fergus Crowley!” She pauses, waiting for a reaction.

“GUYS! CROWLEY!... They took the creepy bastard down! Crowley is going to Federal Prison!”

“Holy fuck!” Dean gasps.

After a beat, as everyone realizes that they won and what a huge win it is - the entire table shouts, whoops and jumps around. Dean sits in shock, staring at his hands.

“Baby, your really free, now. Free from the hospital, Free from your demons, Free to be the man you want to be.” Cas kneels in front of Dean with his hands on Dean’s thighs, looking up into those deep pools of green.

Dean smiles, silent tears track down his cheeks and he leans down to hug Cas.

* * *

 

Dean and Cas sit on the big brown leather couch in the little garage apartment, watching TV and just being close. Dean has been _home_ for two weeks now. His individual counseling sessions have been scheduled for twice a month and there’s a third couple’s session for him and Cas.  Cas has been staying in the apartment with Dean because the bed is bigger and newer (and makes Cas’s bed seem less comfortable than it ever felt before). They’ve also finalized the plans for their vacation and are going to take a month-long road trip.

“I have something for you, Cas. I had to wait… I wanted to give it to you last weekend but … well, hang on, I’ll go get it.” Dean untangles from Cas and the blanket and goes downstairs to retrieve the surprise from his hiding place in the garage. He returns with a large flat package covered in brown paper.

“I’ve been working on this for a few months. I even got Charlie to take it to be framed.” Dean hands the large package to Cas. “It’s a little thank you for everything that you have done and hopefully to show you how much you mean to me.”

Cas turns the object over and untapes the seams of the paper, carefully unwrapping the gift. Once he opens the paper, he is looking at the back of a quality frame… He slowly turns the piece around.

He gasps, intaking a large breath, “Oh, Dean. It’s… beautiful.”  He sits the framed art on the couch and stands back to get a better look.

The image is of Dean and Cas. Cas appears as an Angel guiding Dean through a dark and frightening place. One of Cas’s hands is covering Dean’s eyes and the other is holding Dean’s hand. There are sections of the main image enlarged and drawn as separate sections above and below the main one - a close up of their faces, one of their hands, one of the demonic image reaching for them, and one of Cas’s wing. The entire piece tells a story of Dean’s trust in Cas and how Cas will always be there to help Dean through anything that comes their way.

Dean tells Cas about how long he worked on this and how hard it was to keep it away from Cas. He goes and retrieves his sketchbook to show Cas his journey in developing the final piece. When he comes back into the living room, Cas is hanging the picture on the wall so it is visible when you first walk into the apartment. The yellows in the painting coordinate brilliantly with the color scheme they chose for the room. They spend most of the evening looking through Dean’s sketchbook, reminiscing over the past year, and discussing their upcoming travel plans.

* * *

 

Dean grabs Cas by the shoulders and turns him around to face the setting sun. “Stop taking pictures long enough to watch this with me, will ya?”

“Sorry. Babe. You have my full attention now. Oh wait!” Cas quickly sets up his tripod and adjust the camera to captures the full background. He sets a timer and the multi-shot setting, then runs back over to Dean.

He wraps his arm around Dean’s waist and Dean squeezes Cas’s shoulders as they watch the sun drop low toward the horizon.

“I knew the Grand Canyon was big, but it’s so much more beautiful than I ever imagined.” Dean sighs.

Cas turns them to profile the camera and he kisses Dean with the sunset and Canyon behind them. Capturing that perfectly cliche photo.

On the walk back to their rental car, Dean is playing with Cas’s hand in both of his.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yeah, Babe?”

“Will you be my Valentine?”

Cas stops to look at him, tilting his head to the side… it’s June… Then he remembers their date on Valentine’s Day when he asked Dean to be his Valentine and Dean answered “Always.” Cas puts down his camera bag and takes Dean’s face in his hands, kissing him, closed mouth but oh-so-sweetly.

“Always.”

**THE END…**

 

**… Until we meet again.**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is the property of **vinnie-cha art** \- I would share the link but the Tumblr link I had is broken now. 
> 
> This is the end of this fic (but may not be the end of this verse)
> 
> I hope you check out my short stories and keep an eye out for timestamps on the Kintsugi verse.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated.
> 
> ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
> A note from Jenni - (TheRealJ2MLovesDestiel)  
> Dee, over the last nine months you have given birth to an amazing story. Thank you for letting me hop on from the beginning and share this journey with you. I have watched you grow so much as a storyteller and I am so happy that I had the opportunity to be a part of this “artful” love story.  
> Until next time…
> 
> A note from Sarah - (TapBluesNLindyhopDancer)  
> Dee, thanks for giving me my first opportunity to beta a story. It has been a wonderful journey with you from chapter 1. Just like Jenni, I’ve seen you grow as a writer, and helping beta the story gave me a different perspective on things to help me grow as a writer, too. You’ve written an amazing, heartfelt story, full of love, art, and life’s hardships. I’ve truly enjoyed being a part of its journey to completion!
> 
>  
> 
> I LOVE YOU GUYS!!! THANK YOU FOR BEING THERE FOR ME!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my very first story!  
> Your feedback is welcome and appreciated.  
> If you have something negative to say, please be constructive.  
> If you absolutely don't like my story - you don't have to tell me, just don't read anymore.  
> :)
> 
> The title for my story comes from an article of the same name on LifeGate.com


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